One Secret I'll Never Tell
by scarlett2u
Summary: When Chuck discovers a shocking secret about Blair, will it turn enemies to friends to...more? Pre-series AU. Written for Chairversary 2015.
1. Chapter 1

This is written in honor of Chairversary 2015, Chuck and Blair's 3rd wedding anniversary. But, me being me, I had to go back to the beginning, so this is a pre-series story. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

As the old song goes, there's nothin' like a dame…to ruin the prospect of a beautiful Lost Weekend.

God, how they needed that weekend too. With the flurry of late-term assignments, several sports seasons being at their height, and the stresses of dysfunctional family life around the holidays, the necessity was great. What was needed was an escape, a pressure valve to allow the dangerous steam to safely release before meltdown was imminent.

So Chuck Bass had proposed the coming weekend at his place. There they would be free of parental supervision and daily hassles, free to indulge in alcohol, video games and perhaps a trio of stripping triplets who called themselves The Striplets.

The guys had all enthusiastically agreed. Nothing could stop this blessed event from coming to pass. Nothing except….

Blair Waldorf.

The young lady in question was making a beeline for the group. Chuck groaned. This could not be good. There was no way she was sashaying in their general direction just to say "hello" or to show off shapely legs highlighted by dark stockings with a perfectly straight line running down the back of her thigh and calf. Though she certainly should. Chuck's eyes followed that seam all the way up to where it ended at a short (though not short enough, in his opinion) skirt that swirled flirtatiously around her hips and belied the prim and proper tone set by her blazer and uniform shirt. The cool exterior, the fire below. Hers was always a show worth watching.

"Nate, I need to talk to you about our plans for the weekend." Blair was not one to ask. Queens do not ask favors; they demand them.

"I—uh…," Nate looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Chuck stepped in. He had to. If he didn't, then Nate would go and ruin everything. A Lost Weekend just wouldn't be the same without his best friend there. "Listen, Princess, Nate has to send his regrets for whatever you want to do this weekend. He already has plans with us."

"You have plans for the weekend?" She arched a brow that perfectly showcased dark, intense eyes. "Tell me, what are all the fashionable manwhores doing this season?"

Oh, she was quick. He had to give her that. And her wit was biting. He might even find it bracing, if it didn't sting so much. She could make him angry faster than anyone he knew and right now he was approaching livid.

"I can tell you what they're not doing: they're not holding hands and feeding ducks in the park. Or maybe you'd prefer Nate to come over and play Barbies with you, now that Serena is off being Boarding School Barbie now. Maybe you need new minions," he looked meaningfully across the street, where her court was watching with bated breath.

Chuck was not lacking in lackeys himself. His group of friends stood around watching, with poor Nate, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, unsure what to do or say.

Chuck and Blair could be the best of partners and friends, bonding over a scheme or scandal….or they could be the very worst of enemies. It was a clash of titans, with lesser gods lining up for a front-row seat. Everyone wanted to witness the action up close and personal; no one wanted to have to read it second-hand on Gossip Girl.

Nate just looked at the ground as though he wished it would swallow him whole.

Blair fixed Chuck with an icy glare. "My minions are all sane and sober; I can see how that would appear strange to someone like you." She subconsciously adjusted her headband, as one might a crown. Let him remember he was dealing with the queen here.

Chuck merely smirked and raised a brow in her direction. "If that passes as good company for you, then you won't mind Nate being unavailable this weekend."

She took a step closer to him, her jaw clenched tightly. "And for what glorified purpose, I must again ask."

They were like two opponents, cautiously circling one another and growing ever closer. Their audience watched with bated breath. There was a charge in the air, sizzling and crackling between them. Were they going to kill each other…or kiss? Neither scenario seemed impossible.

"A Lost Weekend. That's a bit hard to pull that off…if your girlfriend won't get…lost."

She blanched.

"The guys need to blow off some steam. How is Nate supposed to do that in the presence of the Ice Queen?" His mocking tone made the words sound all the more harsh.

She gasped in shock. Had he really just said that? Of all people, Chuck knew that her ongoing virginity was not her idea and usually he was the biggest supporter of his friends 'sealing the deal' as he called it.

"I'm sorry," the only thing sincere about his tone was the snark, "was that hitting below the belt—the chastity belt, that is?"

"Like you would even know what one is," she sniffed, before turning to Nate. "When you get bored with your bacchanal and these beasts, come find me." Then she turned on her heel and walked down the hall, head held high and heels clicking loudly with each step.

Chuck hated to see her go, truth be told. He was nowhere near finished with their argument. Somehow fighting with Blair was always more interesting than getting along with anyone else.

A bell rang, sounding the end of lunch for the students of Constance Billard and St. Jude's, and the crowd dispersed.

Too late, Chuck remembered he needed to go to the library for a copy of Cyrano de Bergerac for English Composition. He knew it would make him late to class, but why ruin a perfect record of tardiness now?

A quick stop at the front desk, some flirty words exchanged with the student library aide and before long, his overdue fees were erased and he was leaving with a copy of the title in question.

As he passed the girls' restroom outside the library, he heard a sob. Normally, he would've just rolled his eyes and ignored the hormone-fueled histrionics of a teenage female, but….

That sob sounded familiar.

He stopped in his tracks. Could it be…Blair? No, that was crazy.

The sobbing continued, as did the uncomfortable feeling that he knew the girl in question.

Then the retching began. Maybe someone's lunch simply wasn't agreeing with them…but if it were Blair in there…well….

Suddenly the wheels in his mind began to turn…going over the many times she'd suddenly 'disappeared' following an upsetting incident, only to return looking pale and strange. It had happened more and more in the months since her father and Serena had left. He'd always known something was off, but he'd never known exactly what.

Now he knew. Worse, he felt partly responsible for triggering today's episode. Could their fight have made her feel so bad that she'd made herself ill?

Surely not. He was probably just imagining things. Soon, the door would open and some other girl would walk out and he'd know that Blair, who was probably sitting in class right now like the good girl she was, was just fine.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then the door slowly opened.

From his watching post around the corner, Chuck took a peek.

She was perfect from the bow of her headband to the perfectly applied red lipstick to the red-bottomed soles of her Louboutins.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Great, now he had no idea what to do. If only there were someone who could talk to her, someone whom he could talk to about her…problem. Serena was off who knew where at her new school. Blair's minions were, without their leader, just a gaggle of silly, empty-headed girls. Blair's mother was part dragon—really, Chuck would not be at all surprised to find the woman could breathe fire. And Nate was…well, not especially perceptive about things. How did he not know this was happening with her? Last of all, Chuck felt a surge of anger against himself, because he could've gone to her as her friend…if he hadn't just made himself her enemy during lunch break. It would be hard enough to talk to her about this at the best of times; now they were at war, it was nigh impossible.

But someone had to make her feel better, to make her see that this cycle had to stop.

He looked down at the book in his hand and suddenly drew inspiration. He knew what he could do. He reached into his pocket, drew out his phone and immediately rang Arthur.

* * *

By day's end, Blair was exhausted and more than ready to go home. As she dialed the combination to her locker and opened the door, she was stunned to see the mini bouquet of pink peonies sitting on the shelf with a card simply marked with a B.

Her lips curled into a smile. Nate had finally come to his senses and wanted to apologize for not taking her side earlier today at lunch. And such lovely flowers! It was unusual; Nate usually sent tulips or daisies or some sort of wildflower. The peonies suited her far better.

She grabbed the card and opened the flap. Her face fell. It was not from Nate. She read the lines on the small piece of paper over and over again, telling herself she must be dreaming.

"I know you are making yourself ill," it read. She frowned and rolled her eyes. Did the writer also know what she did last summer?

"What I don't understand is why." She sighed. She didn't understand herself, really.

"You are Blair Waldorf. Like these flowers, you are beautiful and rare." Really, how could one read something like that about herself and not feel the corners of one's mouth curving up?

It was signed, "Your Secret Santa and Not-So-Secret Admirer." She had a secret admirer? Someone knew about her problem…and was not passing judgment or turning the tip in to Gossip Girl? They were instead…sending her flowers? She completely forgot her initial disappointment they were not from Nate.

She stood stock still for a moment, unsure how to react. Then she slipped the note into her handbag and plucked one of the blooms from the bouquet, tucking it under the edge of her headband.

She had a secret admirer!

* * *

He had to know, simply had to know, if she'd gotten his gift. She didn't appear any different at the joint school assembly the following morning and finally, after watching her intently for quite a while, he cut out early and went to her locker.

Figuring out the combination had been easy. He guessed she would be partial to her birthday and sure enough, it worked like a charm, both yesterday and this morning.

His eyes flew to the shelf, which was empty of his bouquet and card now.

Except…

Another card was there now in its place, addressed in a familiar hand to "My Secret Santa."

He was stunned. He'd never imagined she would write back.

But she had and there it was, sitting on the shelf just for him.

A flash of fear went through him. He should just close the locker and go about his business, pretend he'd never seen it.

If he took the note and read it, things might never be the same again.

But he now knew the note was there, he couldn't exactly unknow it.

And he had to know that she was okay. He was honor bound to read it.

Justified in his mind, he slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket, determined to find somewhere quiet and private to read it.

The library seemed a likely place. The student aides were certainly happy to see him back again, but he ignored them in search of a quiet corner where he could be undisturbed.

Then he ripped open the envelope and let his eyes scan the familiar stationery and handwriting.

"My dear Secret Santa, This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship…"

To Be Continued in Chapter 2

* * *

Author's Note: Happy Holidays, everyone! This will be a short fiction that's a brief detour from my other writing. I am not abandoning _The Gilded Cage_ or _Endings and Beginnings_. I just couldn't bear not to participate in Chairversary 2015 and inspiration struck. I may need to change the rating to M as the story progresses.

Special thanks to SnowedUnderNJ, Chrys1130, rayj829, and an extra big hug to Chairship, who is invaluable in her edits.

I love readers and reviews the way Santa loves milk and cookies, so I hope you share your thoughts with me. I also hope that, wherever you are in the world, you are enjoying a happy and healthy holiday season with many reasons to smile and look back in wonder.


	2. Chapter 2

Chuck and Blair were at war over an upcoming Lost Weekend when Chuck discovered Blair's eating disorder. With no one to turn to for help, Chuck decided to lift her spirits in a somewhat unconventional way: by playing Secret Santa and Not-So-Secret Admirer.

* * *

Chapter 2

"Ms. Waldorf?" the receptionist intoned. "Dr. Maloney will see you now."

Blair was led through the outer area into her therapist's Discussion Room. It was bright and spacious, designed to make patients feel comfortable about opening up about their innermost demons and fears.

"Blair, I'm so glad to see you back." The doctor's voice was warm and reassuring, and Blair thought, not for the first time, that she was glad she'd returned to treatment.

"Thank you for fitting me in this afternoon. It's been quite a week."

"Really? Tell me what's been happening." The doctor leaned forward in an interested, almost maternal manner. Blair wondered how it could be that a paid professional, someone otherwise a stranger to her, seemed more interested in her life than her own mother.

"I told you about the note and peonies my secret admirer left for me?" The woman nodded, and Blair continued, "Well, I…I wrote back."

"You did? But I thought you didn't know the identity of the sender."

"I didn't, I don't…I just left the note in my locker and then it was gone!"

"Blair, are you sure you don't know who the sender is?" The tone was gentle, but the question was probing.

"Yes, and I hate not knowing. Everywhere I go, I look around, wondering if he's there, watching me."

"That sounds somewhat uncomfortable."

"You'd think so, but it's actually not. It's kind of…intriguing. I'm curious most of all, I guess. I've wracked my brain trying to figure it out."

"It sounds like someone who may know you well," the doctor prompted.

"He certainly knows how to access my locker without any problem!"

"Are you certain it's a he?"

While she was a big believer in fairy tales and charming princes, Blair was not naïve. It could be a female, but she doubted it. There was something very courtly and old fashioned romantic about it all. "Pretty sure. I even sent a tip to Gossip Girl about my admirer in hopes he would out himself and take credit, but no such luck."

"How have your friends responded?"

"They think it's all very sweet," she gave a brief smile, "and I think they're a bit jealous."

"And your boyfriend?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "He seems unconcerned, not that I care, because I'm still sort of angry with him right now."

"About the boys' weekend coming up?"

Blair's only reply was an indignant snort.

"What about his friend? Are you two still at odds?"

"Of course, this is war! If he thinks there'll be a white flag of surrender, he has another thing coming." Blair didn't realize she was smiling as she uttered these words. Clearly she was enjoying their war games.

The doctor jotted something down on her notepad. "And how has he been conducting himself this week?"

"Chuck? Oh, he actually tried to pretend everything was normal the day after—like that was going to happen! Like he forgot who he's dealing with!"

"You weren't having any of that then?"

"He's just afraid I won't let his precious Nathaniel go on their Lost Weekend. I'm ignoring him until it's over," she made a little moue with her mouth.

"And how did he take that?"

"He glared at me! Can you believe that?! So I glared right back."

"How might this argument affect your relationship?"

"Chuck and I have been friends almost all our lives. I can't remember a time when we weren't."

"I'm concerned the stress of confrontation might trigger you into old ways of coping."

"I've been fine. Really," Blair reassured her. "In some ways, having my secret admirer makes me feel like I have someone on my side. I found this today in my locker…," she reached into her Balenciaga and pulled out a small package that she handed to the doctor.

"Another note and gift?" The doctor examined the contents of the parcel, an antique silver compact with double mirrors inside, and the accompanying note that read, "If you could only see how beautiful you really are." It was signed 'Your Secret Santa and Not-So-Secret Admirer.' There was no helping it; a wistful sigh escaped the doctor's lips.

"I know," Blair agreed, "Once was sweet and romantic, but twice is…incredible. I really wasn't expecting to hear from him again."

"Will you be writing to him again?" The doctor asked the question Blair had been turning over in her mind since she'd found the anonymous gift.

"I-I don't know," she blushed as she placed the items back in her bag. Was it lying if she knew very well what she wanted to do? "I mean, I have a boyfriend."

"You do. Did it feel like you were being unfaithful when you replied the first time?"

"No, I never even thought about it. I don't even know who he is. How could that be cheating?"

Hmm, Blair had given this some thought then.

"And your boyfriend is not upset by these sudden gifts?"

"No, Nate brushes it off and thinks they're a harmless holiday prank." Judging from her tone of voice, Blair clearly didn't agree with that assessment. "But they're not inappropriate, and the sender must be a friend. He could have gone to Gossip Girl, but he didn't. Everyone needs more friends, right?"

"It sounds like you are taking a very practical approach to the whole matter. And, I can see you're making progress with your recovery. We are out of time today. I'll see you next week at our regular time. Keep me posted on your progress…and your admirer," Dr. Maloney smiled.

That smile turned into a thoughtful expression as she watched her patient leave. To the casual observer, it might seem that very little had changed with Blair in the last week. She still walked with her head held high and a smile on her face, but the smile seemed less brittle and forced, more genuine. Whoever this admirer of hers was, he certainly understood what the other important people in her life—her mother, her boyfriend, her absent best friend—did not: Blair Waldorf needed to feel special. She needed to be seen and supported. In providing that, he was just what the doctor herself would have ordered.

Blair was ostensibly hitting the books, making up her missed course work from this afternoon's appointment. Ostensibly, because although she was sitting in front of her laptop screen, she was, in truth, mentally composing her next note to her Secret Santa.

So it came as quite a shock when her laptop emitted a chirp and an instant messaging window popped up on the screen.

YourSecretSanta: You weren't in class this afternoon.

Startled, she let out a little gasp. Was it really him?

QueenB: Well, hello to you too.

He grinned. It had been worth the effort to create this second messaging account.

YourSecretSanta: I beg your pardon, Your Highness. Shall I bow down before you now?

QueenB: That's much better. (pause) Were you looking for me?

YSS: Would you be surprised if I were? You've been looking for me all week.

QB: So you know me from school?

YSS: Are you fishing for clues? I've known you for a long time.

QB: If that's true, what was I wearing the first time we met?

He paused, as if he was fumbling for an answer, but he remembered all too well. Who could forget the first time he saw Blair Waldorf? He'd been four years old and his nanny had taken him to the park for a walk, and there she was, feeding the ducks and chattering away to her Dorota…. She was like an angel. He wanted to talk to her, so he'd gone running up to her and inadvertently startled the ducks. She'd turned and scolded him, but then she'd given him some bread crumbs and they'd fed the ducks together and became fast friends…until they started school and Nate and Serena came along.

YSS: You were wearing red, with tiny little polka dots, and a huge red bow in your hair.

She wrinkled her nose. She couldn't recall any outfit she owned that looked like that.

QB: Are you sure? Sounds like a fashion faux-pas to me.

YSS: Some things…and some people…are unforgettable. You don't remember? I'm destroyed.

QB: Maybe we'll meet again one day?

Uh-oh, this was not going in a direction he liked.

YSS: How can you be sure you'd even want to see me? I could be some hideous beast.

QB: Possibly, but I doubt it. You're probably handsome as sin.

He tried to ignore the warmth that spread through his chest at her saying that, even if she didn't know it was him.

YSS: What makes you say that?

QB: You are very confident, very sure of yourself, very charming. Used to having girls chase you, no doubt.

YSS: Why, Miss Waldorf, is this your way of asking if I have a girlfriend?

QB: What? No!

He could almost hear her indignation in the swiftly typed words and it made him laugh.

QB: Besides, since you know me so well, you must know I have a boyfriend.

YSS: A veritable Prince Charming, I'm told. What does he think of you having a secret admirer?

QB: He doesn't seem concerned.

YSS: Well, he shouldn't be. He gets to see you and spoil you all the time. Lucky guy.

QB: When he isn't planning to escape with his best friend or daydreaming about mine.

She'd hit "send" too quickly. She never should have said that. He just made her feel so comfortable that she'd lost track of her tongue. She looked at the keyboard frantically, wishing there was some way to take it back.

He read the line and grimaced. So she knew, or at least suspected, about Nate's little crush on Serena. Well, maybe not so little, judging by what he'd seen at the Campbell Apartment. He had no idea what to say to Blair now, except…

YSS: He's a lucky guy.

And he meant that, Chuck realized with a shock. Blair was smart, funny, sexy and intense. While most women proudly professed to be complicated and weren't, she was endlessly fascinating. This past week he'd spent watching her moods and expressions, her reactions, he'd never been bored. He soaked it all in, from how she accessorized her uniform to how she dealt with recalcitrant minions. He'd never really allowed himself to scrutinize her so closely before, but now he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop.

QB: You're sweet.

YSS: Can you really say that if you haven't tasted me yet?

She read the line and gasped, unsure how to react.

Idiot! He was an idiot, he thought to himself. What on earth was he thinking saying something like that to her?!

She had the laptop cover half closed, about to shut it down, when the IM dinged again. And she had to see what it said…

YSS: So where were you this afternoon?

She exhaled a sigh of relief. He was going to pretend he hadn't just said that. Good. She could do that too.

QB: I had an appointment with my therapist. (pause) For my problem. (pause) For my eating disorder.

There, she could say it—well, type it, at least. It felt good to be able to do that.

YSS: I still don't understand the why of it.

QB: To be honest, I don't either. Dr. Maloney says it's about trying to get power and control.

YSS: But you're the most powerful girl I know.

She smiled, but it was a sad smile.

QB: I wish that were true. It doesn't feel like it when your dad leaves your family for a male model. And your mom can't understand why you aren't built like a fashion model. And your best friend moves across the country and doesn't tell you before she goes. And your boyfriend isn't really there.

Chuck swore under his breath. She really had been getting hit from all sides.

YSS: You are stronger than all those things.

QB: I'm trying to be.

She was amazing. He wished he knew how he could tell her that and have her believe him.

YSS: Keep trying. How does your doctor think you are doing?

QB: She thinks I'm doing well. She's glad I came back to treatment. I hadn't gone for a very long time. I thought I could handle it on my own. I'm glad I went back too.

Chuck took this news with a wave of relief. His mission was a success. Now he could dispense with the Secret Santa guise and the gifts and the messages…except, he realized with a pang, he didn't really want to. He rather enjoyed choosing things to make her smile and being able to have honest conversations with her. He enjoyed being her friend in secret, even when in public she was looking daggers at him and Nate and they were outwardly at war—maybe especially then.

Blair took a deep breath. She might as well be completely honest…

QB: I don't know if I would have gone back to treatment if you hadn't asked me why I do it. I didn't know how to answer you. I just know that it's something I feel like I need. It does help not to feel so alone anymore. So thank you.

YSS: You're not alone. And you will beat this. You're the strongest person I know.

His mission was not finished. He was going to stay right there and make sure she made it through her recovery. Even if that meant he'd still be her Secret Santa next Fourth of July. He found that prospect oddly comforting.

YSS: I left a little surprise for you in your locker today.

QB: It's not much of a surprise if you tell me about it, silly!

He could almost hear her laugh and the sound stirred something in his chest.

QB: Besides, I already found it. It's beautiful. Thank you.

YSS: Beautiful things make me think of you. They belong with someone worthy of their beauty.

It was really unfair, she thought. All her life she'd dreamed of something like this and now it was happening, only the gentleman in question was a phantom, a ghost she couldn't see.

QB: Just so you know, I'm not an angel.

She didn't know why she felt the need to type that. Why couldn't she just accept his admiration and leave it at that? Why did she have to question it, to point out the negative? Maybe because the people closest to her—her mother, her best friend, her boyfriend—didn't see her in that light. Or maybe, as Julia Roberts' character in _Pretty Woman_ had said, 'the bad stuff is easier to believe.'

YSS: You wouldn't be nearly so interesting if you were. You balance that halo quite well on your horns.

She let herself smile at that.

QB: I feel like you know all my secrets. But I don't know any of yours.

YSS: Are you still fishing for clues?

QB: No, just trying to keep things fair. C'mon, you know things about me now that no one else does.

It was wrong, the thrill that went through him at her words, but he couldn't stop it. A shared secret seemed a harmless enough request to grant. But he was Chuck Bass; he really didn't have any hidden vices. If he did have a dirty little secret, it was this clandestine friendship with her.

QB: Please? What's something about you that no one else knows?

He paused for a moment.

YSS: I miss music.

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

YSS: I used to play the piano when I was younger. I was actually pretty good. Apparently, a little too good, because one day my father came home and heard me playing. He fired my piano teacher and when I came home the next day, my piano was gone.

QB: Why? Why would he do that?

YSS: My mother died when I was very young. I'm told I look just like her. Apparently it was too much that I played like her as well.

QB: But to take it away from you like that!

He smiled wryly.

YSS: See, you don't understand. That's just how my father is. It's hard to explain. When he got rid of the piano, I told my friends that I just stopped playing because I'd gotten bored with it.

Reading the words, her heart ached for him and raged against the father who understood him so poorly. She felt anger that he'd been treated that way and confusion as to why he felt he had to hide that. Then she felt a kinship with his situation. Because when her mother bemoaned the size of her thighs, when Serena left without a word, and when Nate gazed longingly at Serena's golden beauty, she too had done nothing. Nothing except rage and ache on the inside. She hadn't acted out, she'd internalized it all. Maybe that was part of what was coming up with the contents of her stomach. Maybe it was more than power and control, maybe her eating disorder was also about the anger and hurt she couldn't express any other way. She'd have to discuss it with Dr. Maloney at their next session.

QB: I think you should have told your friends. I'm sure they would have understood. Dysfunctional families seem to be the norm on the UES. It's not your fault that your father's a bastard who can't handle his own grief.

She sounded angry and he was touched by her spirited defense of him.

YSS: It's okay. It was a long time ago.

QB: But you still miss your music. Can't you take some music classes or schedule some time at a conservatory somewhere?

YSS: I don't even know if I can still play.

QB: Only 1 way to find out….

The screen was blank for a moment.

QB: If I can walk into the outpatient wing of the Ostroff Center every week, you can find a piano somewhere in Manhattan!

YSS: Okay, I've shared a secret with you. Does this make us besties now? Or do I have to come over and braid your hair first?

QB: You have to paint my nails and then we'll stay up late and talk about boys.

YSS: You drive a tough bargain, Waldorf.

QB: That's what friends are for ;)

They both laughed, warmed and feeling less alone with the companionship and unexpected closeness their secret friendship was creating.

To Be Continued in Chapter 3

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Almaloney33 on the occasion of her birthday. It is only fitting she should have a holiday birthday, because she is truly a gift to the world. Have a beautiful day and new year, A!

Special thanks to Chrys1130 and Chairship for their beta assistance.

Reviews are like presents—so much fun to open and enjoy. Hope all your holiday dreams came true, dear readers, and you are still savoring the season. Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

Last time in the Secretverse: Blair continued to visit her therapist, Dr. Maloney, and she began an online friendship/messaging marathon with her anonymous admirer.

* * *

Chapter 3

Blair Waldorf opened wide and stifled a yawn.

"Am I boring you today, Blair?" There was amusement and only a bit of reproach in Dr. Maloney's tone.

She hastened to sit up a little straighter and focus on her therapist. "No, of course not. I was just up late last night. Actually, I've been up late every night this week."

"You said your secret admirer has been messaging you. Is he the reason for these late nights?"

Blair flushed and looked away, unable to meet Dr. Maloney's eyes. Ever since the online conversation she'd had with her Secret Santa a week ago, they'd been messaging non-stop. One evening they watched the film version of Cyrano and compared it with the book. Another time, they debated the wisdom of choosing Yale as a future alma mater over other universities or if college was even necessary at all. Whether he agreed with her, emphatically didn't, or just wanted to play devil's advocate, he was always a brilliant conversationalist. Their typed conversations quickly became the highlight of her day, something she looked forward to from the second she opened her eyes in the morning.

"I see he must be," the doctor smiled knowingly. "Blair, have you had any difficulties in staying on program this week?"

"No, none at all, I haven't been tempted in the slightest," she sounded puzzled by that realization.

To her surprise, the doctor frowned. "I am glad things are going well with your eating disorder and that you've found a new friend, but Blair, you must be careful. You must not become overdependent on this new person in your life. I'm concerned that you could end up replacing one addictive behavior with another."

Blair was instantly indignant. "He is not some addictive behavior; he's my friend! Aren't I allowed to have someone in my life who doesn't leave, someone who wants to spend time with me and cares about me? How is that wrong?"

"It's not wrong in the least," she tried to soothe her patient as best she could, "but you are at a very vulnerable point in your recovery right now."

"If I'm going to be working on my recovery for the rest of my life, what difference does it make when I make a new friend?"

"There's a reason why the various 12-step programs counsel against starting new relationships during this time. It's because you need to focus on yourself and creating new patterns of behaving and coping. You can't let yourself become distracted by a new romance."

"But this isn't a romance! I have a boyfriend, remember?" Blair's jaw was set stubbornly.

"Of course," Dr. Maloney agreed, "but do you remember? You have redesigned your life and schedule to accommodate this new friendship. That has to have had an impact on your boyfriend. Surely he has noticed?"

Blair flushed again and looked guilty.

"Perhaps he has even said something to you about it?"

Nate had groused that she was much less available this week, while at the same time commenting how happy she looked. "He just wants bonus points for not having the Lost Weekend."

"He decided to forego the boys' retreat?"

"Well, it was not so much a decision as it was a schedule change. It got postponed because of a lacrosse championship game and has been rescheduled for Saturday after next."

"How do you feel about that?"

She shrugged.

"Nate has always been such an important part of your life…."

"He still is!" she insisted. "I am not ignoring him. I'm a good girlfriend to him. And you don't see me making eyes at his best friend either," she remarked bitterly.

"Is that still bothering you? Serena has been gone for months now. Are you sure you're not using your new friend to make Nate jealous, give him a taste of his own medicine?"

"I do not use my friends. And I am not addicted to my secret admirer. I can stop messaging him any time I want!"

Blair did not realize how much she sounded like the addict she so vehemently denied being.

* * *

In the days that followed, Blair was the perfect girlfriend to Nate. She went to his lacrosse match. She planned a date night to see the newest, crudest comedy Hollywood had to offer. She even baked his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Or rather Dorota did, but Blair supervised, telling the maid to add more chocolate chips. She even stood over Dorota and watched as she did it, since Dorota had a tendency to answer Blair's kitchen demands with a meek, "yes, Miss Blair" and then blithely ignore them and do things as she had done back in her native Poland.

As part of her efforts, Blair even cut back on messaging time with her secret admirer.

It had not been easy. The first evening after her appointment with Dr. Maloney, Blair jumped when the messaging tone sounded on her laptop. She ignored it and continued to work on her homework. It chirped three more times. Her fingers itched to click the message box, but she managed to resist. She did not have a problem. Then the text alert chimed on her phone. Maybe it wasn't him? She looked at the text. No such luck. She grimaced and silenced the phone. Then she shut down the laptop and went to bed. Sleep mask on and covers pulled up around her, she felt like she was hiding, rather than being the powerful woman she'd felt like since he'd sent the bouquet of peonies. But she could do this…she knew she could.

Not that she ignored him entirely, of course. She did text him briefly. After all, they usually discussed their assignments and why should her studies suffer? She just got right to business and then came up with an excuse why she couldn't stay online. She felt somewhat guilty about her treatment of him, though, really, she couldn't say why.

He'd been so very kind that she decided to get him a present. Friends exchanged presents, right? She selected a book of sheet music for the piano that had a section of blank music pages so the musician might compose his own pieces. She had no idea if he liked to compose, or even if he'd tried music again, but she felt he should and she wanted to encourage him. Like a friend. She wrapped the book in brightly colored purple paper and tied it with a silver ribbon. Then she placed it on the second shelf in her locker.

Blair was very surprised to return to her locker after class and find the package gone with another, smaller gift left in its place. For a second, her heart stopped. While she had been shopping and preparing his gift, he'd been doing the same. A warm glow spread through her and she tore open the wrappings with excitement.

The small, rectangular box contained a Kate Spade pen in two shades of purple. The cap of the pen was a deeper purple, with the body of the pen a light lavender shade. Brass accents complemented the bright colors. It was perfectly weighted and felt substantial in her hand. The bright pink and purple box it came in was the perfect setting for the gift, right down to the quote in gold leaf on the inside, "she wears her thoughts on her sleeve."

There was a note. Of course. "I love reading your thoughts. Please don't hide them from me."

She almost caved then. She wanted to message him right away, tell him she'd never hide from him. But she couldn't. She had been hiding from him, and what was more, she had to continue doing so. She could do this; she could keep on being his friend. She put the pen, box and all, in her purse and forced herself to walk slowly down the school corridor. Why was this so hard?

When she got home, her gaze lingered on her laptop. She was tempted, oh so tempted, to contact him right now, but she'd been invited to Nate's house for dinner with his parents and grandfather, so it would have to wait. She reluctantly turned away and began perusing her walk-in closet for the perfect outfit. What might say, "I'm your hot girlfriend, but I also have excellent future political wife potential"? Blair might feel insecure about her place in Nate's affections, but when it came to his family, she was always on steady ground. No one played "meet the parents" like Blair Waldorf.

Blair soon donned a little navy dress—conservative and trust-inspiring, but not so predictable as black—and was trying to decide between her Manolo Mary Janes or her strappy Jimmy Choos when her phone chimed. A text! Hopefully, nothing had changed in her plans with Nate. She didn't even think twice before looking at her phone…but it wasn't Nate…

Her heart sped up so fast she felt dizzy. Panic surged through her. She wasn't ready to talk to her admirer just yet. She hadn't figured out what she wanted to say, how she wanted to handle the situation. It was like that nightmare where a student enters a classroom only to discover it's the final exam and she hasn't even opened the textbook.

Before she could develop a plan of attack, she read the single-line message and breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, good, he just had a question about their geometry assignment.

But that one question turned into homework help and a half hour had passed before comprehension (and victory) was achieved.

YSS: Thanks for the help. And the sheet music.

She couldn't stop the smile that broke out on her face.

QB: I hope you like it. Have you played much lately?

YSS: No, though I did get access to a piano. There just hasn't been much time lately.

QB: I know, I need a vacation! Someplace hot, so I can go swimming in the ocean.

YSS: I saw your class in the natatorium yesterday. You make even that plain black Constance suit look good. And you had your hair pulled up, showing off that sexy neck of yours. Trust me, you don't need to rely on a tropical location to be hot.

He thought she was hot?! A thrill went through her before she could stop it. And she needed to stop it. Anything else was disloyal to Nate.

But…

Nate was never so effusive with his compliments to her. Oh, sure, he sometimes said she looked "very nice" when they were dressed up for special occasions, but just wearing a uniform swimsuit for phys ed would've never been cause for comment. If it were Serena, on the other hand….

Blair tried to summon up some guilt over her enjoyment of her admirer's appreciation, but it stubbornly refused to come. What was wrong with a friend complimenting another friend?

QB: I still don't think it's fair that you seem to know everything about me, but I don't know anything about you. Tell me something. Like…what color are your eyes?

YSS: If I were there right now, you wouldn't be able to see my eyes.

QB: And why is that?

YSS: Because your eyes would be closed. And my eyes would be closed. Because I'd be kissing those perfect lips of yours. Then I'd move to your hairline and trail kisses down that sweet neck. I'd smell your perfume, inhale that Chanel No. 5…

She was suddenly warm, dizzy and more than a little turned on. This was very, very bad.

She should not be sitting here reading his words, delicious though they were. She should be getting ready for her dinner at Nate's. She glanced at the clock. OMG, she was so late!

QB: I have to go.

YSS: Blair, wait, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry.

But she was already gone.

* * *

He cursed in frustration. Why, oh why had he said those things to her?! What was he thinking?! He'd grown so accustomed to being connected to her through their messages that when she'd retreated, minimized their contact, he'd been thrown completely off-balance. He knew it had something to do with her relationship with Nate, even if she hadn't told him that. All those little non-Blair-like things she'd been doing for his best friend while acting as if she'd suddenly developed an allergy to his messages…

God, he sounded like a jealous boyfriend.

But that was crazy.

Her absence made him bolder, desperate. He just needed to capture her attention again. And he'd done it the only way he knew how. He'd upped the ante and taken their flirtation further because he couldn't bear going back to being just her friend.

His phone—his real phone this time, not the burner phone he'd come to think of as his Blair hotline—chimed.

It was Gossip Girl with a breaking scandal. An image on the screen showed his best friend in front of Blair's apartment building with his arms around a girl.

Problem: The girl wasn't Blair!

Bigger problem: The girl was Serena!

Disloyal though it may have been, Chuck's first thought was that his best friend had lost his mind. To do this to Blair—and in front of her own building, no less—was out of the realm of the sane.

What would Blair do?

He was ready to message her again when his phone sounded again. Another text from Gossip Girl!

 _Hey, Upper East Siders, more breaking news: A reliable source—and what could be more reliable than the lady herself—tells me that Queen B and Golden Boy have officially called it quits. We know Golden Boy has found his golden It Girl, so does this mean that Queen B is looking for a new king? We know there's no shortage of contenders for the throne. You know you love me. Xoxo, Gossip Girl_

Chuck was speechless. Blair had broken up with Nate? When had this happened? How had this happened?

He sat there in shock for a long time.

Then it finally dawned on him: Blair was free now. Free to date someone else.

Maybe he had a shot.

* * *

Three Days Later

"Can this week get any more horrible?!" Blair gazed toward the ceiling as if expecting the universe to answer.

"The receptionist told me you were concerned about a relapse, Blair. Can you tell me more about that?" Dr. Maloney tried to get Blair to focus on the events of the week and her reactions to them.

"Well, at our last session, you told me to be a better girlfriend to Nate and to stop messaging my secret admirer."

Dr. Maloney frowned. "That's not what I said, Blair. If you recall, I counseled against you becoming overdependent on your admirer and reminded you that it might have consequences for the other people in your life."

"Oh, it had consequences all right! I majorly cut back on messaging my Secret Santa and decided to work on my relationship with Nate. I baked cookies, went to a lacrosse game and even watched a whole Seth Rogen film with him." Blair shuddered.

"I see you are not a fan of Mr. Rogen's work," Dr. Maloney tried to hide her smile.

"None of it did any good! I was supposed to go to dinner with Nate's family the other night, and when he should have been waiting for me, what was he doing? Embracing Serena right in front of my building!"

"Wait, Serena is back?! Was this unexpected?" Blair Waldorf's life had more drama than a Lifetime Movie marathon.

"I didn't even know until the photo of her and Nate showed up on Gossip Girl!"

"Hmm, how did she and Nate explain this incident to you?"

"Actually…," she paused and looked somewhat ashamed, "They didn't. I called down and told the doorman not to let anyone up, and then I didn't take their calls."

"What about at school?"

"Nate is fairly easy to avoid, since he spends most of his time at St. Jude's, but I do have to maintain some sort of contact with Serena, since she was my best friend and Gossip Girl thinks I broke up with Nate before she came back."

"Why would Gossip Girl think that?"

"Because I sent in a tip saying so. I couldn't bear the idea of everyone staring at me, pitying me, because my boyfriend prefers my best friend."

Stranger things had been done in the name of pride. "It seems odd to me that they would be meeting up right in front of your building. Maybe they were on their way to see you?"

"I was supposed to meet Nate at his house," Blair admitted.

"But you didn't?" the therapist prodded.

"No, I was running late."

"That's unlike you, Blair. Did he know you were behind schedule?"

"No, I lost track of time."

"That is also unlike you. What were you doing?"

"Does it matter? When I was there, getting ready for a date with my boyfriend, he was downstairs groping my best friend! So I told Gossip Girl we were done, and you know what I feel? Relief! I don't have to pretend anymore."

"But aren't you still pretending everything's okay? You still have a great deal of anger about the situation and you cannot avoid Serena and Nate forever. Don't you think you should at least listen to what they have to say? That way you will be able to close this chapter and move on."

"I have moved on. I had a brunch date with Cooper Astor the next morning."

Dr. Maloney raised an eyebrow. Blair had really only been single for about sixteen hours? "That was fast."

"It's not like I planned it that way," Blair protested. "He saw the blast on Gossip Girl and called to ask me out. I figured it might cut down on the gossip if I went."

"Did it?"

"No, it just generated another blast. But I was also hoping he might be my secret admirer."

"I take it he isn't?"

"No, I knew almost immediately. His family is one of the original New York 400 and he is quite the name dropper. I was bored to tears in five minutes."

"Not to worry, I'm sure there will be other dates."

"There were. I went ice skating with Wesley Adams yesterday afternoon and then to an art lecture at the Met with Lane Clements."

"Your life is anything but boring, Blair. Did you enjoy those outings?"

"Not really. Lane is obsessed with 19th century romantic poets and all Wes can talk about is Duke's chances in the playoffs. Not like my admirer, who can make even geometry homework interesting."

"Have you been in contact with him?"

"Yes, and no. When I got home from brunch, this had arrived at my home." She took a shiny, rectangular black box with red trim out of her bag and handed it to the therapist.

Dr. Maloney ignored the brand stamp on the box and slid its contents into her hand. There, attached to a black mesh ribbon, was a three inch pendant in a most unusual design. The top of the piece was a silver coronet that connected to a small band with raised gold studs that curved into another gold piece sculpted to look like a flame. It tapered down to a fine point, like the head of an arrow. It was truly a work of art.

"It's a lipstick. Open it," Blair urged.

When the silver top was removed, a bold color in a stunning combination of red and pink hues was revealed. It was daring but innocent. A very singular shade, and one which would flatter her young patient well.

"Christian Louboutin Sheer Voile. The Fire Below," Dr. Maloney read aloud from the engraved metallic band that protected the product in its case. "Created for Miss Blair Waldorf."

Blair's secret admirer had commissioned this to be created especially for her.

No wonder she was unimpressed with Mr. Blue Blood Society, Mr. Athlete and Mr. Intellectual. She had already found Mr. Dream Come True. She suddenly understood why Blair was so resistant to the idea of cutting back her time with him.

"It's certainly more personal than a bouquet of peonies. Very thoughtful. Tell me, what does he say about your breakup with Nate?"

"That's just it. We haven't spoken. I texted him as soon as I got the gift, but I just got a message stating the number was no longer in service. I keep waiting to hear from him, but it's been total silence," She bit her lip and her eyes welled with tears.

"This happened right after your date?"

Blair nodded.

"Perhaps he is upset you went out with another young man?"

"How can that be, if he won't tell me who he is? He won't even tell me what color his eyes are!"

"Perhaps it is meant to be a goodbye gift."

Blair shook her head. She couldn't believe that. Of course, Dr. Maloney didn't know about the note that had accompanied the lipstick. _One of the things I adore most about you is the contrast between that cool exterior and the fire below. I imagine that this is the shade your beautiful lips must be after you've been kissed. I can only hope that one day I will get to find out for myself._

A thrill went through her again, just thinking of his words. Then came the dejection of remembering that he had now disappeared from her life.

"You said something about a relapse, Blair. Is this part of what triggered it?"

"Yes, but really, it's a combination of everything. I'm so tired of fighting these feelings, of fighting my problem. Sometimes it just feels like it's too much on top of my everyday life. Trying to see my body objectively. Trying to eat the right amount—not too much, not too little. Then if I do make a mistake, trying not to purge. It overwhelms me," she confessed.

"Blair, look what you have done so far. You've come for treatment and are coming in regularly for our sessions. I am here for you. And it's not just me, you have a whole team to help you fight this. Your family doctor assures me that you aren't currently experiencing any medical complications from your eating disorder, which is fortunate. You've been meeting with the dietician also—how is that going?"

"Fine. At first I was worried that she'd want to force me to eat more, but she's very patient and I'm comfortable with her. She has me write down all I eat, if I purged and my thoughts/feelings at the time. She also told me to put the scale away and only weigh in at my family doctor visits."

"It sounds like you're working well with everyone on your team. Remember, if you want to see a psychiatrist in addition to your visits with me, that is always an option."

Blair shook her head. "I like coming to talk to you. I just don't understand why it got so hard all of a sudden. I thought I had things under control. I thought I had my problem under control. Then last night, I just felt so angry and upset that I went down to the kitchen and ate some of Dorota's paczki—those are Polish filled donuts, by the way. I managed to stop myself—I made Dorota give the rest to our doorman-and I didn't purge, but I feel like such a failure, like I blew my whole recovery."

"Recovery is a daily thing, Blair. New things are always coming at us. I think you need to give yourself credit for your progress in the program so far and for stopping and not purging. Being in recovery doesn't mean that you won't ever have challenges or setbacks again, but let's talk about what we can do to handle all the craziness that's going on in your life right now. Are you having any trouble with school stress?"

"If you mean academics, no. If you mean stress at school, then definitely yes. It's so hard to act like everything is fine with Nate and Serena."

"Then don't."

"What?!" Blair was aghast.

"They hurt you, betrayed you. But you cannot swallow your feelings about that and then throw them back up. Let Nate and Serena explain to you what happened that night, then forgive…or don't. It's your choice. You have the power here."

"You're not going to tell me that forgiving would be the moral and upright thing to do?" Blair looked skeptical.

"I am not concerned about the state of your ethics; I care about the state of your physical and mental health, your recovery. Think about what recovery offers you: a healthy body, freedom to live your life, happiness. What makes you happy, Blair? What do you want in your life? This is what you are fighting for, remember that."

And suddenly Blair knew what would make her happy. She knew what she wanted.

And now she knew what (who?) that was, she was going to get it.

To Be Continued in Chapter 4

* * *

Greetings, readers! I hope you enjoyed this latest installment in the Secretverse. I hope to go back to the Cageverse and update for TGC on or before Valentine's Day.

Some tidbits about items covered in this chapter:

The Kate Spade pen? Is a real thing, only I changed the color scheme for this story. A dear friend gave me one for Christmas and I love it. The package is exactly as I described, down to the "thoughts on her sleeve" quote in gold lettering.

The Christian Louboutin lipstick is also a real thing. Sephora and Nordstrom online carry them, but I changed the design of the holder to reflect the coronet on top (for our Queen B) and the flame on the body of the lipstick case (for the fire below). I don't know if you can actually commission a custom color from CL, but if it could be done…well, you know Chuck Bass would do it!

About Blair's bulimia: This is a serious disorder that many strong, beautiful women and girls struggle with every day. I don't want ever want it to seem that I don't take that seriously. After researching this complex issue, I was stunned by just how many challenges must be faced over and over again: body image, nutrition, portion control, purge control and trigger management. It is a fight and I admire those who battle daily for their recovery. Keep fighting, you are worth it!

Special thanks to Chrys1130 and chairship for their beta assistance.

Say, have you read my friend Almaloney33's debut GG fic, "Through the Looking Glass"? I think you'll love it. I do!

Reviews welcomed and cherished. Also designer lipsticks. (Hey, it can't hurt to ask, right?)

Until next time, readers!

xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

"Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Maloney and you're…," her voice trailed off as she realized that every single page of her new patient's paperwork was blank.

"I'm Chuck Bass," the young man offered in a deep voice.

"I see. Did you need some more time to fill out the patient history and questionnaire?"

"I don't need time, I need answers."

"Answers to…?" Dr. Maloney sat down. It had been a very long week and was looking like it was going to get even longer.

"I'm not here for myself. It's for a friend. My friend is being treated for bulimia. Here. By you. And I need to know that she's okay. That she's going to be okay."

"You know that, even as a therapist, I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm afraid I can't discuss another patient's treatment with you or anyone else," she reminded him gently.

He sat down then too and ran a hand through artfully arranged locks. Then he loosened his tie and heaved a sigh. "Look, I really don't have time to argue my case here. We need to come to an understanding. There must be something you need…a weekend suite at the Palace Hotel, new computers for your office…something."

"Mr. Bass!" She was well and truly shocked by his implied offer.

"Chuck, please," he interrupted.

"Chuck," she began again, "I don't know what kind of health professionals you are used to dealing with, but I can assure you that I do not barter confidential information about my patients for free office equipment or a weekend getaway."

"Well, what about my mental health? I need to be sure that my friend is okay, that nothing will mess up her recovery."

"Do you believe something has happened that will hinder her recovery?"

"She's been under a lot of stress lately…," he paused, unsure of how much detail to add. "She's just done so well this far. I want to be sure nothing messes that up."

"You realize that neither you nor I has any real control of her treatment and recovery. That is up to her. You say she's been doing well in treatment?"

"Yes, very well. I'm proud of her," he didn't realize he was smiling as he said it, then his face clouded over, "But a lot of stuff has happened recently…."

"So you said. There's no guarantee that challenges and roadblocks won't come up as a person is going through treatment. Have you talked with her about these recent developments?"

"Not exactly," he hedged.

"How long has it been since your last communication with her?" He'd swear Dr. Maloney sounded like a priest at confession.

"Three days, sixteen hours and...,"He looked down at the very expensive watch on his wrist, "about twenty-two minutes."

Dr. Maloney bit her lip to stop the smile that wanted to form there. Dear Lord, he had it bad. From the unintentionally disheveled hair (which she suspected was unusual for him) to the impatient manner to the bribes, frankly, the boy was a mess.

"Had you been discussing her treatment with her?"

"Yes...and no…well, it's complicated."

She nodded in understanding. "Chuck, you know I cannot discuss her case with you. And I don't feel it's ethical for me to accept you as a patient while I am treating her. Plus, my specialty is eating disorders and addictive behaviors, not relationships."

"Oh, this is not a relationship," he was quick to argue. "She has a boyfriend. Well, had. Now she's dating other guys. Several other guys. But not me."

Once again, Dr. Maloney resisted the impulse to smile. She rather figured that was the reason for his sense of urgency.

She reached down in the pocket of her notebook binder and pulled out a card and handed it to him. "I can't treat you, but I really feel that you would benefit from talking to one of my colleagues. Here's her card. She has later office hours today. I can call and see if she has an opening, if you'd like."

"I don't see why you'd think I need her services," he scoffed.

"Chuck, you want to help your friend, do you not?" At his nod, she continued, "When a person suffers from a disorder like bulimia, they do not suffer in a vacuum; their family and friends feel the effects as well. It sounds as though you could use the extra support right now, to help your friend."

"Fine, if you think it will help her, I'll go. After all, it's only one visit, right?"

Dr. Maloney didn't answer. She was already on the office phone and in the space of a minute and a half had procured an appointment for him within the hour.

When he stood up to leave, she shook his hand. "Goodbye, Chuck. It was a pleasure to meet you, even if I can't be your therapist. I wish you the very best, both with Dr. Gold and with your friend."

He surprised her with a charming smile. "I'm glad I came today, even if I couldn't persuade you with new desktops or a suite. If you ever visit the Palace, feel free to drop my name for a discount."

As he left the office, Dr. Maloney felt free to grin a bit. His visit had been a very educational experience.

* * *

Another hour, another office, another therapist. 'What was I thinking?' Chuck wondered.

If he had thought this therapist would be another Dr. Maloney, he was wrong. The office building was the best section of the Upper East Side, discreet and well-appointed. The office featured luxurious furniture and a receptionist with a haircut that cost more than feeding a family of four for a week. Perhaps not surprisingly, Chuck found this reassuring.

Then Dr. Gold walked in with Chuck's papers. She was maybe a half dozen years younger than Dr. Maloney and her movements were quicker, her manner more business-like. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was styled in a pageboy that flattered her forehead and showcased piercing, dark blue eyes. Her keen gaze seemed to be looking him over and summing him up.

Though he was no stranger to piercing blue gazes (namely the steely ones of his father), Chuck immediately felt uncomfortable.

And then he smelled her perfume, and was made doubly so.

Before he could do or say anything, she looked down at the papers again and frowned. "You didn't fill out the paperwork, Charles."

"Since it's my first visit…," he tried to explain.

She wasn't having any of that. "How am I supposed to help you when I don't know your history and your concerns?"

Great, when it came to therapists, Blair had gotten the maternal one and he had gotten the drill sergeant.

"Isn't that what this session is for?" Chuck demanded. Really, what kind of therapist was she? If his concerns could be resolved by writing them on paper, why would he even be here?

"It wastes valuable time we could use for other things."

This woman was clearly a quack.

"Where did you go to school?"

His question seemed to come from out of the blue, but she knew what he was getting at: he wanted to know her credentials. "Yale."

Well, at least Blair would be impressed.

"I graduated at the top of my class and I have seven years' experience seeing patients. I can assure you, Charles, I am not new at this." She sounded confident but not arrogant.

"Sounds like you are doing well for yourself."

"I like to think I am making a difference. Now that we've established that you approve of my career path, let's talk about what brings you here."

He paced a bit, looking around her office, still unsettled. His eyes lit on a photo of the doctor in sporting clothes with her arm around another woman beside a raft on a river.

He knew that face. "Dr. Maloney, I presume?" He raised a brow.

"Yes," Dr. Gold allowed herself to smile then. "She's my partner. We took that trip rafting down the Colorado River two years ago."

"Dr. Maloney couldn't see me as a patient because of a conflict of interest and because she specializes in eating disorders and addictions. What do you specialize in?"

"Relationships. Finding love is always a challenge, especially here on the Upper East Side."

"Love?! I am not here for love!" he sneered. "I am here to help a friend who happens to have an eating disorder. I really don't see how you're going to help me."

"Well, then it appears that I can't. Thank you for coming in. It was a pleasure." She sounded so casual that she might have been turning down sugar in her tea.

"You're just…dismissing me?!" He couldn't believe he had wasted his time with this.

"Look, you clearly don't trust me and you don't seem to want to talk about your concerns, so why waste my time and yours?"

He turned to go. "I can't believe you'd treat a patient like this. What if I had come here with real problems?"

"Charles," she sighed, "everyone has real problems. If you acknowledged that you did too, you'd talk to me about your girlfriend and about why you tensed up the second you smelled my perfume."

"She's not my girlfriend!" he snarled.

"Do you want her to be?"

"It's like this," he sat down with a sigh and then poured out the whole story, ending with, "Now I haven't been in communication with her for several days and I'm worried about her and her recovery."

"That's admirable," she conceded. "Tell me, you see her at school, right?" He nodded. "Does she appear to be fine?"

"It doesn't matter how she appears. She's Blair; she's very good at concealing what she doesn't want known."

"But you haven't actually observed any behaviors that might cause you to worry she's relapsed?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Maybe you just miss her."

"You talk like she broke up with me or something. It was just some gifts and emails and messaging. That's not a real relationship."

"Did it feel real to you?"

"Her boyfriend—well, ex now—is my best friend. I'm not trying to steal my best friend's girlfriend."

She noticed he hadn't answered the question she asked.

"Besides, I don't do girlfriends. I never have." He sounded quite dedicated to his anti-relationship stance.

"Growing up, what was your parents' relationship like?"

"I wouldn't know. My mother died the day I was born."

She hadn't meant to hit a sore spot.

"That White Shoulders perfume you're wearing? That was her favorite," he said quietly.

"How do you know that? Does your father talk about her often?"

"Not at all. Ever. I only know because I was playing in his room when I was little, maybe five years old. The bottle was still on his dresser and I wanted to smell it. I was trying to get it open, but it spilled and the perfume went everywhere. I've never heard him yell like that before or since."

A bad memory, when it should have been a bittersweet one.

"I'm sorry it brought up bad memories for you."

"I'm fine," he brushed it off. "It was a long time ago. It just took me by surprise when you came into the room."

"What perfume does Blair wear?"

"Chanel No.5," he grinned. "She prefers the time-honored classics."

"It's rather a shame you don't do girlfriends. You favor a classic style as well," she gestured to his well-cut suit. "You have a great deal in common, an interesting rapport, and now she is free."

"Hardly free," he snorted. "She was dating within a day of breaking up with Nate. Since they broke up, she's been out with some old money society guy, a jock and a brain. Her dance card is full." He had no idea how envious he sounded.

"And you don't do girlfriends," she reminded him. "I'm sure you'll eventually meet someone at your school who you'll find more attractive."

"More attractive than Blair? She's ten times hotter than any other girl at our school…at any school."

"If you're attracted to her, why not explore that attraction? Have you discussed it with her?"

"No, we haven't been in communication since right before Gossip Girl sent out that text about Nate and Serena."

"She just suddenly disappeared? She hasn't tried to message or text you? Really?"

Chuck looked sheepish here. "I've been having difficulties with my phone. Besides, she doesn't even know it's me." Did he sound disappointed or relieved by that?

"Chuck, what happened to your phone? You don't strike me as the type who'd tolerate days of technical difficulties."

Damn, had she guessed? He looked at her. Her eyes were steadily looking at him, as if she could somehow see the truth. He might as well tell her; it wasn't like the information was going to leave this room. "I broke it."

"When?"

"When I saw the pictures of Blair on her date with Cooper Astor."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I was angry."

"Why were you angry? What's the first thing that went through your mind when you saw the picture?"

"I couldn't believe she didn't wait for me. I thought she would. With Nate out of the picture…." He shrugged. "I just lost my temper. Next thing I knew, the phone was across the room and the screen was shredded glass."

"You didn't go out and get another?"

"What was the point? By that time it was clear she was working her way through every eligible guy at our school. She doesn't need me, so I thought it would be a good time to bow out as her secret admirer."

"But you still admire her…and miss her." The woman had a knack for pointing out the obvious.

"I didn't think I would miss her this much. She'd cut back on our texts and messages last week—to be a better girlfriend to Nate, I think-so I was trying to get used to less of her. Now there's none of her. And I don't know how she's doing. I miss her wit. I just miss her…and I don't know why I just told you all that."

"Because I'm on your side," she reminded him. "You're supposed to be able to count on my support. I am Team Charles." She gave him a little smile then.

"Actually, it's Chuck. Only my father calls me Charles."

"I shall order my t-shirt with Team Chuck on it then. And I wouldn't be too hasty to discount Blair as not being on your team as well. She has tried to contact you since then, right?"

"Yes, but I haven't responded."

"Don't you see, Chuck? She probably believes you have abandoned her, not the other way around. How do you know what she's thinking if you won't talk to her?"

"But…," he fumbled a bit here, "what if I'm not ready for a girlfriend? What if I hurt her? What if she learns I'm her admirer…and she's disgusted by that?"

Ah, the real reason for his retreat!

"That's quite a few questions, Chuck. I don't have a crystal ball. I don't have any written guarantees. No one does. Answer me this: do you miss her?"

"God, yes!" There was no hesitation.

"Do you want to be her friend?"

"Of course I do. We've been friends almost our whole lives."

"Well, then, I suggest you start there. Just talk to her and be her friend. You can figure the rest out as you go along."

He nodded. "You know, when you first came in here, I didn't like you."

She raised a well-groomed brow. "Really? I liked you immediately. And now that we've actually talked, I like you even more. Think about what I've said. I may not be able to write songs like Melissa Etheridge, but I do know something about forbidden feelings." She glanced over at the rafting photo again. "Come see me again next week and let me know how things are going."

After the door clicked closed behind her patient, Dr. Gold looked again at the photo and muttered under her breath, "Oh, Allison, when you said he would be an 'interesting' patient, that was definitely an understatement!"

* * *

Chuck spent the rest of the day pondering how best to carry out Operation Befriend Blair. It wasn't as though he could just pick up a phone (though replacing the damaged burner phone was definitely on his to-do list) and call her and say, "Hey, I'm back. I've missed you like crazy and I need to know how you are doing."

He supposed he could just message her, but what if she asked where he'd been? Was he ready to answer that? It was one thing to tell one's therapist (He had a therapist now? How had that even happened?!), it was quite another to confess to the lady herself.

No, this was going to require a little more finesse, a bit of a segue.

Should he send another gift? No, not yet, he wanted to focus on the friendship factor, not a romantic gesture. Besides, he didn't even know how she'd reacted to his last gift and that rankled a little. Ordinarily, he would have been quite sure that a custom lipstick would be right up Blair's alley. He'd taken a great deal of care in designing the packaging and consulting with the color masters for just the right shade. When it had arrived at his home right after her breakup with Nate, it was like the universe telling him it was the perfect time to give it to her. He'd had it sent by personal messenger the following day. Because it was special, because she was special. Still, he had yet to see it on her lips.

He really needed to stop thinking about Blair's lips…and questions he didn't have answers for.

No, he needed something simpler.

A note.

He would write her a note. Something that said supportive and friendly, hold the sexy. He got a plain note card of heavy vellum and a pen.

How to begin? "Good morning, beautiful."

He stopped, scratched out the 'beautiful' and ripped the card in two.

On a fresh card, he began again. "Good morning, Your Majesty."

Ah, better. Nothing conveyed proper like referencing royalty.

"Just a reminder that you are still the most powerful woman I know. Here's to a day of using your powers for good."

There, it was finished. Short. Simple. A show of support without resorting to wearing a Team Blair t-shirt.

How best to close? Your Secret Santa? YSS? Your Dirty Little Secret Admirer? Uh-oh, there he went again. He decided to just leave it blank, sealing the card in the envelope.

He was ready for tomorrow and whatever the day might bring.

* * *

He was so not ready for this day.

Oh, he had thought he was. He'd risen early and surprised Arthur with a request to get to school well before his usual time (which usually coincided with the tardy bell). Then he'd surreptitiously stolen into Constance Billard and deftly dialed the combination to Blair's locker.

Her birthdate.

He released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. She hadn't changed it! She hadn't given up, even when he did…or tried to.

It was a good thing he took that breath; he really needed the oxygen when he saw what was sitting there on the shelf. An envelope, propped up for easy visibility, with the words "For You" in Blair's elegant script. It sat atop a small, flat rectangular box wrapped in silver paper.

Was it for him? "You" could refer to any number of people. But it had to be him, right? Before he knew it, he was holding the box in his hands.

To his delight, both the top and bottom of the box were wrapped so that he could simply lift the lid and take a peek.

He did.

Neatly folded into a square was a Burberry cashmere scarf in a bold plaid pattern with black, grey and just a hint of red. To be honest, it reminded him a little of his signature silk scarf. It was the perfect gift. So perfect that a frisson of fear ran through him that perhaps she'd discovered his identity.

Taking a quick check down the hall and finding it empty, he reached up and took the card, ripping it open without pause.

 _Dear Secret Santa, It must get cold in the corridors of Constance/St. Jude's and the streets of the Upper East Side, so here's a little something to keep you warm in style. Think of the red in the scarf as a little kiss from me, in gratitude for all your lovely gifts—especially the gift of your friendship._

There was no signature.

Okay, so she was still blissfully unaware that it was him. That was good…wasn't it? It gave him more time to figure things out. The relief he felt warred with regret that he could not put the scarf on right now, not if he wanted to maintain his anonymity a little longer.

It wasn't until he was closing the card that he saw it.

There, at the bottom of the message, in a spot previously covered by his fingers, was the imprint of two perfect lips in a shade he had designed just for them. The kiss print warmed his heart and heated his blood in a way no scarf ever could.

He just stood there for a moment, thinking about how his fingers had touched the same spot as her lips and wondering for the millionth time what it would be like to touch those lips, to kiss those lips…

He was startled out of his reverie by the sounds of other students arriving, so he tucked his gift and the card into the inner pocket of his uniform jacket and made haste to exit the area.

But not hastily enough, it would seem, for there, coming down the hall, straight for him, was Blair. Dark curls bouncing, high heels clicking, a cloud of Chanel No.5 and bemused minions in her wake.

Before he could stop himself, he smiled at her.

And wonder of wonders, for the briefest of seconds, she smiled back. Then she seemed to remember that they were still at war.

She spoke first. "Bass," she nodded at him, "are you lost? I believe St. Jude's is across the street. Or perhaps something else has led you to grace our halls? Has the dragon left his lair in search of some fresh virgins for breakfast?"

He liked her wit…and her choice of visual.

"Waldorf," he nodded back. "Word has it that finding a virgin here is a bit like finding a unicorn or a four-leaf clover. Besides, virgins are not exactly my usual palate. I typically prefer something a bit more…ripe." He was looking at her mouth as he drawled out the words. "Though I'm sure I could be tempted if the fare were tasty enough…." He looked her up and down as he said it.

For a second he would swear she was blushing, then she reverted to her Ice Princess mode. "If you're hungry, Sarabeth's is still serving breakfast. I recommend the almond encrusted French toast or the lemon ricotta pancakes. Now, if you'll excuse me," she moved to walk past him, but ended up brushing up against him in the confines of the hall.

His hand shot out to grasp her arm. "Don't you think it's time we declared a cease-fire in our little war? Now that Nathaniel is your ex, whatever do we have to fight about?"

She shrugged off his hand, but didn't really move away from him. "I'm sure we can come up with something. Hope springs eternal. But yes, I am giving you full custody of Nate. He's all yours."

"That's all I'm getting?" he wheedled.

"What else do you want?" she looked wary, especially when an enigmatic gleam came into his eye.

"I'll take the reconciliation with you and full custody of Nathaniel. You drive a tough bargain. Should we seal the deal with a kiss?" His gaze lingered on her lips, which were sadly devoid of any coloring but a sheer lip gloss.

Onlookers, already staring, gasped at his effrontery. Was he serious?

She swallowed. "I'm sure a handshake will suffice." She had her hand at the ready. When his fingers and palm met hers, a current of electricity seemed to shoot between them and they looked at each in silent awe.

When he was able to let go of her hand, a half dozen bystanders were already texting Gossip Girl. The War Between Chuck and Blair was finally over, and the peace talks looked…interesting.

* * *

Chuck skipped his Government class that afternoon. The lecture topic scheduled was "Ethics in Government" and as far as he was concerned, the government really didn't have any ethics, so it was a moot point. He'd much rather sneak into the Natatorium and watch Blair's swim class. It was like art appreciation—and there was a class in that—so clearly Blair-watching was the more educational endeavor.

Girls swarmed out of the locker room area, all dressed in the regulation Constance swim team suit, a conservative and serviceable black maillot. From his post in the hall outside, Chuck peered in through the darkened glass. No Blair.

Some girls had already started lining up for their laps. Still no Blair.

Where was she?

He heard her before he saw her, heels clicking on the mosaic tile floor. Then she leisurely walked over to a pool lounger and sat down, slipping off her pumps.

She unknotted the tie on her cover-up and slowly eased it off her shoulders, revealing a suit that was most definitely not school regulation. Oh, it was black and it had a modest neckline, but there all resemblance ended. The sides had mesh inserts, giving glimpses of porcelain skin below, and the back…well, there was no back. It plunged down to where the fabric began at her waist. The area from her shoulders all down her spine was entirely exposed and the snug suit showcased a derriere that fairly begged to be squeezed.

His mouth went dry. She'd taken his breath away.

It only got worse. She took the ends of her hair and slowly twisted them up into a chignon, revealing that silky column of neck. And then…the piece de resistance: she pulled out the lipstick he had given her and slowly applied it to her bottom lip, pressing her lips together and rubbing them against each other to spread the color. All the while, she seemed to be looking at the window, as if she knew he was there watching her.

Heaven help him, it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. The blood rushed south in his body and he was ready to go in there, grab her and kiss that pretty pout until it was naturally the color of the lipstick she'd just applied, teacher and student spectators be damned.

Instead, there he was stuck in the hall, trying to think of every unsexy thing he could to counteract the effects of her on his body. He thought it might get better when she was finally called to swim her laps, but no such luck. Beads of water gliding over her body. Hair slicked down and gleaming black as night. The cold water tightening the buds of her breasts and making them stand out in relief against the tight suit.

Oh, God, it was even worse.

He had to get out of there. Now.

It was ironic that he'd risen that morning with every intention of being her supportive friend, but since then, from the scarf to the note to their talk in the hall to her little (intentional?) strip tease at the pool, every single thing she'd done had created additional more-than-friendly feelings in him. Was she trying to seduce him?

In the face of confronting such an irresistible force, he did what any brave man would have done: he fled, so that he might live to fight another day.

To Be Continued in Chapter 5

* * *

Author's Note:

Greetings, dear reader! Thanks for joining me in the Secretverse. I hope you enjoyed this latest installment.

Special thanks to my betas: Chrys1130, Almaloney33, Chairship and SnowedUnderNJ. It was Chrys who was responsible for the perfume spill scene (I wanted Chuck to be instantly uncomfortable with Dr. Gold and she provided excellent motivation) and the comment about the kiss print heating him like no scarf ever could. The scene in the hall at Constance was inspired by Almaloney33, who expressed interest in seeing how CB would interact in person since most of their recent interactions have been through email, texting and notes.

Don't miss Chairship's stories, especially her hot Valentine's Day one-shot. Also from the files of "Is it hot in here, or is it just this story?": check out the newly posted chapter 3 of SnowedUnderNJ's _Scenes From The Back Seat._ It is scorching!

I'd love to hear from you. Why review? Because Chuck and Blair aren't the only ones who delight in finding little notes.

Xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck found himself a therapist and also on the receiving end of some special attention from Blair. More surprises await…

Chapter Five

Dr. Allison Maloney looked down at her watch for the third time. So far she'd downed a margarita and eaten half the guac-n-chips appetizer she'd ostensibly ordered for Jessica.

So where was she?

Allison had just taken another bite of divinely salty, guacamole-covered tortilla chip when her partner finally appeared at the top of the steps.

"Sorry," Dr. Gold panted. "Couldn't get a cab. Had to hoof it up here. You couldn't have picked a location closer to my office?"

"I picked this one because it's midway between your office and mine. Rough day?" Allison was nothing if not fair and solicitous.

Jessica took a breath. "I know what you're doing, Allison."

"What?" Allison was the picture of innocence. "Isn't it normal to be curious and concerned when my partner has so clearly had a long day? That's why I suggested dinner out tonight, you know."

"We are at my favorite restaurant and you've ordered my favorite appetizer—though it appears it might be your new favorite." She looked meaningfully at the partially empty platter in front of them.

Allison blushed.

"And now you're trying to be subtle. That might work on your patients, but I know you better than that."

"What is this grand plan you think I have in mind?" Allison was on the offensive.

"Why, to find out about my session with the new client you just sent me. How did you get him to agree to see me? I'll bet you told him it was for the girl's sake." Jessica raised a brow inquiringly.

"He needed some expert help that, due to doctor-patient confidentiality, I could not provide. So I simply sent him to the very best this city has to offer." She beamed with pride as she said it.

Despite her best intentions, Jessica smiled back. "Well, I'll say this, when you said he would be an 'interesting' patient, you weren't overstating it."

"Interesting in what way?"

"Stop trying to analyze my patient by proxy," she scolded, before continuing in a more gentle tone, "Allison, you know we cannot discuss either of our patients, separately or in relation to each other."

"I know, it's just that I am used to talking about my more unusual cases with you, even without names and in very general terms." She sounded a little wistful.

"But you know we can't do that in this case," Dr. Gold was reminding herself as well as her colleague. "There's no way we wouldn't know exactly what and who the other was talking about!"

"It's funny that you are such a stickler for protocol now," Allison observed. "You certainly weren't when you were a TA and asked your professor out on a date."

"In my defense, I never thought she'd say yes," Jessica smiled. "Just like I never thought we'd fall in love and that she'd resign from such a prestigious job so that we could be together."

"It was the best decision I ever made. I would've never been truly happy in academia. I love spending time with my patients too much."

"As do I, especially the more 'interesting' cases like these two. Like I tell my patients, I do understand something about forbidden fruit."

"Speaking of forbidden," Allison broke in, "we won't speak any more of our two patients that shall not be named. Let's speak of dessert instead. I want to order some of that Tres Leches pound cake that was so yummy last time…."

And that was that on the topic of Chuck and Blair.

* * *

At least until the following Thursday afternoon when Dr. Gold walked in to find a very anxious Chuck Bass pacing through her office, wearing a hole in the carpet.

"Won't you sit down, Chuck? I just replaced the carpet last year and I'd hate to have to do so again this soon. It's an imported fiber blend, you know." She gestured instead to a selection of comfy seating.

Chuck eschewed the sofa and went straight for an overstuffed leather chair in a modern design.

"What seems to be troubling you today?"

"Blair Waldorf." He made it sound like the plague.

Dr. Gold pretended to go over her notes from their last session, although she remembered it all in vivid detail. "I believe you had decided to focus on your friendship while you were deciding if you wanted to act on your attraction to her."

"And that advice completely backfired! Besides, that was before she tried to seduce me."

 _She what?!_ Dr. Gold suddenly felt the need for every course she'd ever taken, every counseling experience she'd ever had and the all the psychological knowledge contained in the leather-bound volumes that lined the walls of her built-in bookcases. "First of all, Chuck, I do not give advice. That's Dr. Phil, not me. You and I talk and discuss solutions and strategies."

Put like that, it sounded like scheming. And that was something Chuck understood very well. He nodded.

"Secondly, you say she tried to seduce you?! How is that even possible? I was under the impression she was still unaware of your identity," she raised an eyebrow in question.

"She was. She is. I mean, I think she still is." In terms of declarative sentences, his wasn't declaring very much.

"Okay, why don't you tell me everything that's happened since we last spoke?"

"In the spirit of being a supportive friend, I decided to leave her a little note. It was very platonic."

"That's good. A positive step."

"Except she'd already left a gift for me in her locker. It was this," he pulled the cashmere scarf out from under his jacket.

"Very nice," Dr. Gold commented. "It reminds me of the silk one you were wearing last week."

He smiled then. "It was a perfect choice."

"It seems innocent enough," she mused.

"There was a note with it. It was signed with a kiss. An imprint of the lipstick I gave her."

Oh.

"A charming gesture." It was the most neutral thing she could think to say.

"Charming?!" he snorted. "And then that afternoon, in swim class, she didn't wear her uniform suit."

"I did not realize your school had co-ed swim classes."

"They don't. I, uh, just happened to be passing by the natatorium and looked in." He tried to sound casual.

"I see." Oh, she saw all right.

"She was wearing this skimpy little one-piece with mesh insets here," he gestured to his sides. "And she put on her lipstick by the pool and I swear it was like she knew I was watching, like she wanted me to see her."

"And what did you do after this little display?"

He said nothing, but his brow lowered and his lips curved in a devilish look that clearly said, 'I'm Chuck Bass, do you really want me to answer that question?'

Dr. Gold tried to ignore the blush that rose on her cheeks. "How did you handle your next interaction with her?"

"I have tried to avoid any personal interactions with her this week. She's not playing fair. I've left three notes in her locker and every time there's just a little note back with a kiss print. The last one was _just_ a kiss print. How am I supposed to be her friend if all I can think about is her lips?!"

Avoiding her? Hmm, yes, Dr. Gold could see how this was going.

"You say she's not playing fair. So far all she's done is leave some flirty notes and gifts. That's exactly what you've done," she reminded him.

Oh, it was so much more than that. "You forget the pool."

"Which may or may not have been deliberate."

He gave her a dubious look. "Now she's all I can think about. And then, the other night, I had…a dream."

"A dream?" Heaven help her, she was almost afraid to ask. She swallowed. "What was the nature of this dream?"

"Oh, it wasn't that kind of dream," he quickly reassured her. "Not that I haven't had that kind of dream about her before, but this was different."

"Different how?"

"It felt so real. I was with my friends at St. Jude's…and she walked up to me. She was wearing the lipstick. And she knew it was me, that I was her secret admirer. Then she whispered something in my ear," he looked almost embarrassed at this point, "and she kissed me, right there in front of everyone, except it seemed like we'd forgotten they were even there."

"What did she whisper to you, Chuck?" Dr. Gold felt certain that she knew.

He looked away, as if shying away from the memory. "She said…she loved me."

"What did you do in the dream then?"

"I woke up. It's always the same. She tells me she loves me and I wake up."

"Always? You've had this dream more than once?"

"Every night this week."

Well, no wonder he was wearing a hole in the carpet when she arrived.

"You've said you don't do girlfriends. Has a girl ever told you she loves you before?"

"No one has ever told me that."

"No one?"

"No one," he said firmly.

"Ever? Not even your family?" She tried not to sound shocked, but what he was saying sounded impossible. Her own family, even when she'd first come out to them and they'd been disapproving of her relationship with another woman who was also technically her boss, had never let her feel unloved.

"My father isn't exactly the cuddly type," he frowned.

Not the cuddly type?! What kind of father never tells his only son that he loves him? She remembered Chuck saying that his mother had died when he was born. It sounded like Chuck's father could certainly have used grief counseling all those years ago. Perhaps he had never truly dealt with his loss.

She was interrupted from her reverie by Chuck asking, "What do you think it means?"

Great, first he thought she was Dr. Phil, now he was expecting a dream analyst.

"I think it means that while you've been trying to decide how you feel about a relationship with Blair, your subconscious has already made up its mind. You want the secret to be out. You want to be with her. The question is: What are you going to do about it?"

He looked so terrified that it might have been comical had it not been so very serious.

"What am I going to do about it?" he echoed.

"Yes, because you are at a crossroads right now in your relationship with Blair. There's no technical term for it, but I like to call it "The Flip." It's that point where a friendship ceases to be simply that and becomes something more."

"The Flip?" he may have sneered a bit at her expression.

"Yep. It's tricky. It's easily the most difficult stage in the progression of a relationship. It's the difference between a great love and a lost one. It's not too strong to say that everything is riding on it, because…well, everything is. It's a gamble and it's time for the final bet. Do you risk it all and win everything or hesitate and lose? You have to be willing to go all-in."

"How hard can it be to just start dating someone?" Chuck really didn't understand.

"Dating someone you just met? Not too difficult. Dating someone you've known your whole life and consider a good friend is definitely more risky. There is so much more to lose. Perceptions of yourselves and each other have to change. Both parties have to want this. The timing must be just right."

"Should I synchronize my watch?" his mouth curved up in a grin.

"You joke, but it's a serious thing. It's like a trapeze act. To grab onto your partner, you have to be willing to let go of your own swinging bar, and you have to be in sync and take a leap of faith. And then you're flying."

"Or falling to the ground! Blair doesn't even know it's me. And if she did, she'd still have to want to date me and we'd have to deal with Nate…."

"Are you talking yourself out of it? Because that is all too easy to do with The Flip. And then you're just hanging there, swinging in the wind."

He didn't say anything, just looked at her.

"Chuck, if you decide not to take the chance, how do you envision your life, your future?"

"Probably the same as it was before," he said aloud, but inside he was considering how, other than his friendship with Nathaniel, his life was just one long Lost Weekend.

"Is that what you want?" Dr. Gold's tone was gentle. "I know you undertook this secret relationship to save Blair, but is it possible that it's saved you as well?"

With Blair, he had a reason to get up every morning, a reason to smile. Without her, all he could see was an endless parade of meaningless parties, a revolving door of faceless females. He frowned.

"I see this all the time," Dr. Gold confided. "People who have talked themselves out of a relationship before it even began. It is their biggest regret, even years later, with them married to other people and having their own families. It will always remain unfinished in their minds and hearts. And that makes me sad. If you're going to regret something, Chuck, make it something you did, not something you didn't do."

"She may shoot me down immediately."

"But what if she doesn't? You and I can sit here all day and talk about what we think she might do, but only she knows for sure, and that won't be until the situation presents itself. Until you present yourself. And if she does reject you immediately, give her some space. Don't rush it. People trying to negotiate The Flip often forget that their feelings didn't happen out of the blue. They have had time to get used to them, to decide to act on them. Their partners deserve the same consideration. Give her a chance to see you in a new light."

"She has seen sides of me that no one else has," he admitted.

"Look, it's never going to be safe. The question is, are you brave enough?" The gauntlet had been thrown down.

"I think it's more a question of what if I fall?" he grumbled.

"Oh, but, Chuck, what if you fly?"

* * *

"Good afternoon, Blair," Dr. Maloney gave her a welcoming smile. "Tell me how you've been. I'm sorry I was out of the office on your usual appointment day last week."

"It's fine," Blair reassured her. "I've actually been working on something you asked me about at my last session."

"And what is that?"

"You said that I needed to focus on what recovery means to me, what it can do for me. You told me I was fighting for what makes me happy."

"How would you define what that is?"

"I decided it's not a what, it's a who. My admirer. I want him back."

"I see," Dr. Maloney paused to take a sip of coffee. "You said he had gone incommunicado. Did you find a way to reach him?"

"It wasn't easy. I had no choice but to leave him something in my locker. I had to wait three days before he picked it up!" Patience was clearly not Blair's strong suit.

"What did you leave for him?"

"A Burberry cashmere scarf. And a note. Signed with a kiss…in my new lipstick." She sounded torn between shy and proud about that last statement.

Well, that certainly upped the ante.

"Did it draw him out?"

"Kind of. He's been leaving notes for me again. Very sweet ones. Just quotes and things. But he hasn't started messaging me again on my phone or computer," she sounded disappointed.

"Maybe he's uncertain of where he stands with you? Maybe he's unsure what you want?"

Blair snorted. "I don't see how that can be. He's very intelligent. And I've been less and less subtle. The other day, I wore a new swimsuit to my diving class—something much sexier than our old uniform. Then I even put on my new lipstick in full view of the window in the door. I know he's seen me in class before, and I was hoping he would again that day. And do you know what that got me?" she demanded.

It was fair to say that Dr. Maloney was consumed with curiosity at this point.

"A summoning to Headmistress Queller's office. I almost got a dentention! But that would've gone on my permanent record, so I talked her into a warning and an assignment instead. I had to write "Rare is agreement between beauty and modesty." Five hundred times. In Latin," she rolled her eyes. "I can see why it's a dead language. I'm definitely over it. The worst part of it was that it was all for nothing. I am still no closer to finding out who my admirer really is."

"I was under the impression that you were not actively searching any longer. You have no clues?"

"Please," Blair dismissed that statement with a wave of her hand, "I'm Blair Waldorf, I'm not without resources. I could comb through yearbooks looking for suspects. I could stake out my locker even. But I feel such a connection with him, and I know he feels it too. I just want him to come to me, to tell me who he is."

Getting to know him and discover his identity had evolved into a personal challenge for her.

"The other night…," she paused.

"Yes?" The usually patient doctor was very afraid she was going to throttle her patient if she stopped there.

"I had a dream," Blair confessed with a blush. "About my admirer. We were dancing, but it was dark and I couldn't see his face. I knew he was trying to say something to me, but I couldn't hear his voice. Then he kissed me…and disappeared. I couldn't find him, even though I kept searching. I panicked…."

"What do you think your dream means?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Blair laughed.

"Do you suppose that perhaps the reason you cannot see him in your dream is because you are not ready to? Maybe your subconscious actually knows his identity, but your conscious mind isn't ready to accept that yet."

"I don't know why that would be. Even if it turns out to be complicated, it can't be any more complicated than my life is right now anyway."

"Let's talk about those people in your life. Have you confronted Serena yet or spoken to Nate?"

She looked embarrassed. "Not yet, but I intend to. The old me wants to just scheme and get back at them for putting me in this position."

"I can understand that, but that ultimately won't solve the issue. Don't try to cover it up, don't try to swallow it. Deal with it. I know you are brave enough to do that."

"And I will. It will just have to wait until after the Lost Weekend."

"That's this weekend coming up?"

"Yes. Looking back, it seems strange how upset I was when I first heard about it. Now I couldn't care less."

"Nate's friend…Chuck, was it? What terms are you on with him right now?"

"Believe it or not, we've had a cease-fire. I ran into him in the hall at Constance and he actually wanted to make peace. We even shook hands on it, but…," she stopped abruptly and blushed furiously.

"But…?" Surely Jessica didn't have this much trouble getting intel from her patient.

"It's nothing. He just made a remark about 'sealing the deal with a kiss' and for a second, I actually thought he meant it." Her blush deepened.

"What if he did?" Dr. Maloney's tone was casual. She might have been discussing the weather or the latest show on Broadway.

"What if he did?!" Blair's voice rose to a shrill pitch. "He's my friend! He's my boyfriend's best friend!"

"Your _ex-boyfriend_ ," Dr. Maloney reminded her. "And it's not unheard of for friends to become something more."

"Wait a minute, this is not _When Blair Met Chuck_ ," she protested, blatantly ignoring the similarities in their setting and storyline to _When Harry Met Sally_. "My life is not a rom-com; it's a Hollywood classic."

"Who says it can't be both?"

"Well, I'm sure he was just joking, even if every time I've seen him this week, I swear he's been staring at my lips. I'm not going to waste any of my time thinking about it." Blair had made up her mind.

Dr. Maloney bit her lip to stifle a protest about how Blair clearly had been thinking of it for days.

* * *

Ever the gracious host, Chuck Bass was hard at work putting the final touches on his plans for the Lost Weekend, which was due to begin that evening. The liquor had been delivered, the gaming consoles were set up at the ready, and the Striplets had already phoned to confirm their appearance. Forty-eight hours of escape beckoned.

And that was just what he needed, Chuck thought. He'd come back to his suite yesterday after his session with Dr. Gold resolved to reveal himself and take that next step with Blair. Then reality crept in. A torturous vision appeared in his mind of the look of shock that would appear on her face, followed by a dawning look of horror and finally disgust.

That would be the end of everything. There would be no more little messages or gifts (either given or received), no more sense of closeness to her, no more secret friendship. Why would he risk all that on some far from certain chance that she'd want to be more than friends? It just wasn't a sound decision. He could live with things as they were now, even if it meant having that crazy dream every night for the rest of his life.

Not that he wasn't still thinking of Blair. No, he'd already stopped by her locker this morning and left another note. Today's message was an Audrey Hepburn quote that read: "The true beauty of a woman is reflected in her soul." Then he'd added a 'Good morning, beautiful' to top it off.

So he felt like he was in a good place. He'd found a level of comfort in his discomfort. Then his phone chimed and the foundation he'd so carefully built was reduced to rubble.

 _Knee socks, short skirts and ponytails, oh my! A little friendly competition at Constance this afternoon turned into full-scale war as Queen B and her (former?) BFF switched over from field hockey to fisticuffs. Things have been cordial between the two friends and perhaps a mite too quiet since Queen B and Nate split. I, for one, have been waiting with bated breath to see how this one plays out. Apparently it's with harsh truths and hair pulling. When a passing Golden Boy attempted to separate the combatants, it was revealed that his little embrace with S a couple weeks back in front of B's apartment was merely an attempt to save the lady in question from stumbling on an uneven sidewalk while he went to retrieve his tardy royal escort. Queen B late? Oh, N, don't you know that queens are never late; everyone else is simply early._

Thirty seconds later, the phone chimed again with another blast.

 _If that sounds like an anticlimactic end to the royal rumble, never fear, readers. The best (or worst?) reveal is yet to come. Anger can lead to all kinds of revelations and loose lips can sink ships—friendships, that is. Apparently this was not the first incident of infidelity in B's fairy tale: That's right, her lacrosse-playing lothario did 'it' with a certain It Girl at a wedding where he was supposed to be the Queen's escort. Randy peasants! No clue on what the Queen herself thought of his news, as the confrontation was broken up by school officials. The boyfriend and the best friend? Guess we know the 'It' in It Girl doesn't stand for class._

Chuck was stunned. Oh, not surprised by what happened—he'd been there, after all—but definitely startled by how it came to be revealed. He wondered if Blair knew before the fight. If she didn't, this had to be her worst nightmare. He was inclined to believe she was unaware, as strategic revenge was more her style than a chick fight.

Still, all that flying hair, skirts riding up, breathy little puffs of air expelled from those oh so perfect lips…and there he was again, back to Blair's lips. They were the destination to which all trains of thought led.

He thought back to the Shepherd wedding. Blair had gone home early with a headache, and Nate and Serena were nowhere to be found. He'd been up in the gallery, looking for some amusement…and something better to drink than the open bar champagne. Then he'd looked down and saw them at the empty bar. The corners of his lip curled up in a smirk. He'd been amused. This had to be Nate's living wet dream—giving up his v-card to the object of his obsession since early childhood.

Chuck had said nothing, did nothing, just continued his quest for high-quality hooch. Despite his amusement, he'd known that this was the really the beginning of the end of his best friend and Blair. There was no keeping a secret of that magnitude, just as there was no escaping the wrath of a queen scorned-for her own best friend, no less. Maybe that was part of the reason for his little smile. Had he wanted Blair even then?

What if it had been the two of them instead at the Campbell Apartment? What if it had been a tipsy Blair prancing across the empty bar, with Chuck's fingers reaching out to caress her shapely calf? Then reaching up for the bottle of champagne…pulling it down…pulling her down and into his lap…their faces so close…so close to those perfect lips...

The champagne cork would pop, startling them, and Chuck would say that never happens to him and then Blair would say…something witty and worthy (her wit was as sharp as her stiletto heels) and he'd realize he adored her mind as much as her body. Then he'd have to be kissing her again. More passion, less clothes. And he wouldn't have cared if the entire wedding party were there watching them….

He shook his head as if to clear his mind. He didn't have time for this now. Nate would be arriving shortly and he'd find out how Blair was doing from him.

Except he didn't. Because Nate arrived in full escape mode. When queried about the Gossip Girl blast, his response was that he didn't want to talk about it and that he only felt relief. Relief?! He should be relieved—that Blair found out about his indiscretion with Serena and was still permitting him to live! Nate would be fine; he was already absorbed playing Halo and drinking a beer.

But what about Blair?

Was she furious?

Was she heartbroken?

No.

She was…shopping?!

His phone chimed with the latest blast from Gossip Girl.

 _Hello, Upper East Siders. Oscar Wilde once said, "Crying is for plain women. Pretty women go shopping." Clearly this is true, as our beloved Queen B was just spotted indulging in some retail therapy at Barneys. Is our Queen looking for a royal rebound tonight? She's certainly looking at a little red dress that would be perfect for painting the town that very color…and maybe finding a new Prince Charming?_

Chuck was gripping the phone very tightly. He vainly fought to keep down the green-eyed monster inside him that growled "Mine!" at the thought of Blair dating again. How could she be thinking of that again when he was still carrying a small piece of vellum with the imprint of her lips in his pocket? It was one thing for him to decide to not push the boundaries of their relationship right now, it was quite another to have to stand by and watch her date someone else. He'd be damned if he were going to let that happen!

Without thinking, he abandoned his host duties to Nate—surely, getting the door and offering guests something to drink wouldn't be too taxing of his abilities—and headed for his room. Then he fetched the new burner phone he'd yet to use and quickly texted Blair.

 _I see you've been shopping. Big plans tonight? Who's the lucky guy?_

The phone chirped almost immediately. If she was surprised to suddenly get a text from him, she wasn't showing it.

 _No plans, no guy. Maybe some popcorn and Breakfast at Tiffany's._

 _What, you've stopped working your way through the eligible bachelors of the UES?_

 _I wasn't working my way through anything. Actually, I was looking for someone. I was looking for you._

His heart stopped for a second, then something in his stomach started fluttering. What was she doing to him?

 _Looks like you found me._

 _My lucky day!_

 _Didn't seem like it earlier this afternoon._

 _That was unfortunate, but I'm actually glad it's out in the open now._

 _Did you know before?_

 _About Nate and Serena? Yes and no. Yes, I've always seen his eyes following her. But no, I had no idea there was some tryst at the Shepherd wedding._

 _Are you upset?_

 _Define upset. I'm angry that my best friend slept with my boyfriend. And vice versa. I'm sad because I was waiting for him and I thought he was waiting for me too. Am I surprised though? No, not really. I'm not sure what that means._

 _You deserve better._

 _I do. I don't know that I would've believed that a couple of months ago, but I do now._

He wasn't quite sure what to say to that.

 _It's nice to hear from you this way again. I'm surprised you're not at Chuck Bass's Lost Weekend tonight._

 _Maybe I am, but maybe I'd rather just get lost with you._

As Lost Weekends go, it was considered to be off to a successful start. The liquor was flowing, the gaming was competitive and the Striplets were, as always, quite entertaining. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the host himself. Chuck didn't seem to be engaged by any of the events of the night. He was always off somewhere in a corner on his phone.

The guys didn't really notice, but the Striplets did. Nancy, Natalie and Nerissa made their name and their living by generating attention. And it was unlike Chuck Bass to ignore the very finest money could buy, er, hire for the evening—and in terms of exotic dancing, the Striplets were just that. At the conclusion of the evening, Nancy fretted that perhaps they needed botox. Natalie argued that if they needed anything perhaps it was new foundation garments; gravity and time were not on their side at the age of 26. Nerissa scoffed at both these theories. Clearly, they were still as fabulous as ever. What she really feared was that the unthinkable had happened: Chuck Bass might have fallen in love. And that made all three girls laugh until they cried.

Even later in the evening, when his guests were sprawled all over the living room, deep in slumber, Chuck was still awake and still texting Blair.

 _I'm so sleepy I can't keep my eyes open._

No! He didn't want their messages to end. He could happily fall asleep just like this, still chatting with her.

 _I wish._ She abruptly stopped typing.

 _What do you wish, my queen?_

She really couldn't voice it, could she? She was so sleepy she hardly knew what she was saying. _I wish I could just hear your voice tell me goodnight._

Oh, God, no. He couldn't. He shouldn't. He dare not.

 _I don't want to say goodnight. I'll say Buona Notte instead._

 _Then I'll say Bonne Nuit._

 _Dobroi Nochi._

 _Oyasumi._

 _Iyi Geceler._

 _You know Turkish?!_

 _Enough to wish you goodnight._

 _Goodnight, my favorite secret._

And she was gone.

Ten minutes later, Blair was snuggling under the covers and getting ready to put her sleep mask on. The phone trilled.

Her heart seemed to stop for a second and then began beating wildly.

It could be a wrong number.

It could be her mother.

It could be anyone.

Or…

It could be him.

She answered. "Hello?"

"As per m'lady's request, I am calling to wish you goodnight. Goodnight, Blair."

"Goodnight," she echoed automatically, still in shock.

And then he was gone and she was left gripping the phone tightly, wondering if she had been dreaming or if she'd just experienced a dream come true.

To Be Continued in Chapter 6

* * *

Author's Note: Hmm, how did Chuck manage to pull off that phone call? And now that they've graduated to a phone call, will this completely change the game? We'll find out soon.

My apologies for ever thinking this story could be a one-shot. Clearly I can't count.

Special thanks to Chrys1130, chairship (don't miss her new story _The Best Kiss_ ), Almaloney33 and SnowedUnderNJ for their awesome support.

Happy Spring, dear readers. Let me know what you think of this chapter.

Xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

Last time in the Secretverse: Despite hosting his Lost Weekend, Chuck couldn't resist making sure Blair was all right after Gossip Girl revealed the sordid truth about Nate and Serena's wedding hookup. Neither could he resist when Blair wished she could hear his voice bidding her goodnight. A phone call ensued.

Chapter 6

He was the first thing on her mind when she opened her eyes in the morning.

That voice!

Had he really called to wish her goodnight? Or had she simply dreamed the whole thing?

But the voice…that voice…. It was deep yet whisper-soft. The things his tongue was doing to the English language…it ought to be illegal. It was certainly unforgettable. Maybe it was the accent? A British accent would always lend silky sophistication to every syllable.

If it was a dream, maybe she could close her eyes and go back to it. Maybe the phone would ring again…

As if on cue, the phone on her bedside table trilled.

She jumped, then pinched her arm, letting out a yelp. She was definitely awake.

She answered the phone with just the briefest of hesitation.

"Good morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

There it was again. Her mouth went dry and goosebumps rose on her arms in response to the music in his voice.

"Hello, handsome," she looked at the clock before snuggling back into the covers. "You're up early."

"You sound surprised."

"Well, if you slept well last night, then Chuck Bass is losing his touch at hosting Lost Weekends."

"I assure you the hosting is more than adequate. Perhaps I slept well because I was dreaming of you."

"You are charming." He could hear the smile in her voice. "As is that accent. Too bad I know you're not British."

He froze. Could she know? Or was she just guessing? "You sound awfully certain of that." He did not break character.

"Of course I am. I'm Blair Waldorf; if there were a hot Brit running around the halls of our schools, don't you think I'd know?" Surely he knew who he was dealing with here.

"Are you implying that exchange students are somehow more noteworthy than your own fellow American students? That's not very patriotic of you, Miss Waldorf," he scolded.

"Well, it's not very sporting of you to tease me with misinformation. I already have people in my life who have lied to me." A hint of hurt still lingered in her voice.

He hadn't considered that she'd still be smarting from Nate and Serena's betrayal. She'd just made a wish, and the temptation for him to fulfil it had been overwhelming. In the pressure of the moment, he'd decided to affect the accent to stay anonymous a little longer. But how could he explain that to her?

He was silent for a moment. "I will never lie to you, Blair. Never have, never will."

The sincerity was there in his voice, as was the desperate desire to believe him in her heart. "I hope not."

"Test me. Ask me anything and I'll answer."

"What if I want to know who you are?" she wondered aloud.

"Do you really need a name? Does it matter? I'm someone who cares about you. And thinks you looked amazing in that swimsuit and your new lipstick. Very kissable."

If his aim had been to distract her from her line of questioning, it was a complete success. "You saw me?" She sounded both surprised and pleased.

"You wanted me to, didn't you?"

"Maybe," she purred.

"Now who's being dishonest?" he chuckled. That little show was for him, she'd all but confirmed it.

"I didn't lie. I…prevaricated," she defended. "But now I need to ask you something and I really need you to answer me honestly and directly. Will you?"

"Unless it has to do with my identity…which I will tell you…in due time. Right now…it's complicated."

"I need to know…have you ever slept with Serena?" He could tell she was forcing the words from her lips, as if she feared the answer.

"You want to know if I've 'done it with the It Girl'?" he almost laughed in relief. "I haven't exactly been a monk," he grimaced as he realized what an understatement that was, "but no, my tastes are more selective than that."

"Oh, and what's your guilty pleasure then?"

"I have many pleasures, but only one secret desire. Do you really have to ask? Don't you know by now that it's you?"

Blair attributed the warmth that went through her and the fluttering in her stomach to that yummy accent, faux though it may have been. It had absolutely nothing to do with the sentiment that voice expressed.

Before she could think what to say, there was a disturbance in the background on his end of the line.

"My attention is required. I must go. But Blair, don't think I don't know how this game works. We've had quite a few truths. When next we speak, there has to be a dare."

Oh, she was more than ready.

* * *

The prospect of a lazy Saturday did not faze Blair Waldorf. Sure, maybe she wasn't speaking to her (former) best friend and maybe her (former) boyfriend was off at the Lost (but not lost enough, if you asked Blair) Weekend, but she had more than enough to occupy her time as she pretended not to be waiting for her anonymous admirer's call.

She finished all her homework assignments and did the readings for the following week.

She began alphabetizing the dresses in her closet by designer, but quit midway through the project. It would be too confusing for Dorota to determine if Oscar de la Renta should be under D or R every time Blair requested one of his designs. And what about Karl Lagerfeld for Chanel: should it be under Lagerfeld (the designer) or Chanel (the house he was designing for)? It simply wasn't worth the effort, so she abandoned the plan and had Dorota reorganize by color once again.

At loose ends, she decided to watch a classic film. She felt like something different than the usual Hepburn oeuvre, so she tried _The Shop Around The Corner_ instead. The 1940 film starred Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan as two battling coworkers who find love as anonymous pen pals. Blair found the concept to be a bit farfetched. Could you really have regular contact with someone and find them a source of irritation only to find them a source of delight as a secret friend? What about love at first sight? It went completely against everything she'd heretofore believed. Even watching the modern remake, _You've Got Mail_ , with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan didn't help her conflicted mind.

Also distracting were the random thoughts she kept having about her own secret admirer. Now that she'd actually spoken with him, her curiosity was insatiable. She had to know more.

What was he afraid of? Besides showing himself, apparently.

What was his favorite color? She knew it wouldn't be the standard blue or green for him.

Who was his first crush? He said he'd never been with Serena, but what kind of girl did he find attractive?

What was his favorite book? Favorite movie? Dear God, she hoped it wasn't another Seth Rogen film. Somehow she thought it would be something mysterious, maybe sci-fi….

Before she knew it, it was time to get ready to meet the girls at a dance club. If the boys could have their weekend in, no one could begrudge Blair and her minions a night out.

She dressed with care, selecting a sequin-studded black flared dress with some strappy Jimmy Choos that were perfect for dancing. If Gossip Girl were going to be reporting her every move—and let's face it, she usually did—Blair wanted her admirer to know exactly what he was missing tonight. So her half-up/half-down hairstyle showcased her swan-like neck and his gifted lipstick outlined her perfect pout.

Sure enough, she had no sooner arrived at club when the first blast appeared.

 _Spotted: When her ex-Golden Boy's away, the Queen will play! N may be holed up at Chuck Bass's Lost Weekend retreat, but it's clear Her Royal Hotness isn't staying at home. Getting into a 21-and-over club in Manhattan poses no problem for the queen and her ladies-in-waiting, nor does pulling off a look that's royally ravishing. Let's all drink a toast in their honor. Cheers, dears!_

A photo was attached that showed Blair sipping a cocktail, surrounded by her court of minions. She did look stunning, Chuck thought with a grimace. And here he was, stuck with his guests, as he had been all day. There had been a lazy sleep-in morning, followed by basketball at the court and then back in for more video games. Pizza and some very posh microbrew beers had been sent up by room service and the Striplets were expected any time now for an encore performance.

Despite all that, Chuck just wanted to escape. To her. He had certainly not missed the display of that silky column of neck…nor those perfectly shaded, perfectly shaped lips…nor the line on the back of her stockings that disappeared under that full, flared skirt. And he wouldn't be the only one. It was only a matter of time before she was completely surrounded by guys who were craving a dance, a conversation, a kiss…craving her, as he was right this second.

Ironically, he was currently a prisoner of his own rules for Lost Weekends. There was no outside world. They ate what he provided, practiced what he preached, and only talked to girls he paid for. How could that possibly be a bad thing? Blair Waldorf had managed to make it so. He'd known since the very day they'd first discussed this retreat that Blair would somehow ruin it for him. It just wasn't in the way he'd expected.

He gritted his teeth in frustration.

His phone chimed again. Oh, what now?!

He was almost afraid to look. If some guy were out there on the dance floor with her getting handsy, that was it, he decided. Damn the rules and the Striplets, he was out of there.

It wasn't someone getting handsy, more like hand-to-hand combat was possibly imminent. Serena had arrived.

 _Well, well, well, things just got a little more interesting, Upper East Siders. Looks like S just crashed B's club night. Is this island big enough for the two of them? More importantly, is this club? Will it be a showdown or a throwdown? I can't wait to find out…._

A second photo showed Serena approaching Blair and her court. Once again, Chuck was struck afresh with how very different the two girls were. Most obviously in looks, though both girls were undoubtedly lovely, but in temperament and style. So S was going to offer the olive branch with a public mea culpa? It was risky, ballsy even. Chuck had to give her points for being willing to beard the lioness in her den. Perhaps she was taking inspiration from those gladiator sandals she was wearing.

For her part, Blair remained unmoved. Serena's first attempt to speak to her was met with a cool rebuff and some words that, while he couldn't make them out on the video, Chuck was sure were both witty and cutting. In terms of sharp-tongued setdowns, Blair really was the master.

Serena retreated. Chuck didn't blame her.

A drink and a half and two dances later, Serena tried again…to no avail. Chuck grinned.

For her third attempt some time later, Serena decided to quit asking. She caught Blair alone, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her into a stairwell. Gossip Girl was beside herself that no one was able to capture that conversation on video. No one knew what was said, but everyone was stunned by the next blast:

 _To err is human, they say, and to forgive, divine. Apparently Queen B rules by divine right, because S has been pardoned. These two truly put the WTF in BFF. Personally, I am just glad that the F no longer stands for Fatality. Nobody does besties better than these girls. Sorry, guys, you'll just have to find other dance partners tonight; S and B are celebrating their reconciliation. It's hos over bros tonight._

The accompanying photo showed the well-dressed pair laughing and dancing together.

Chuck let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Thank you, Serena van der Woodsen. Now he wouldn't have to worry about some smarmy character trying to move in on Blair. He was also glad that the girls appeared to have mended fences. It had seemed wrong for the lifelong friends to be on the outs. And it spoke to Blair's forgiving nature – she didn't give up on people she cared about, no matter how undeserving. If she could forgive her best friend for sleeping with her boyfriend, taking his cherished virginity even, then surely she could forgive Chuck for being her anonymous admirer and give him a chance, right?

He couldn't wait to hear all about Serena's return to grace, but unfortunately it was quite some time before he was able to do so. By the time the pizza boxes were empty, the gaming consoles were shut down and the Striplets had left with their generous payment and tips, it was very late.

Was it too late to call? He threw caution to the wind and dialed anyway.

* * *

"Hello?" Blair stifled a yawn.

"Were you sleeping?" There was that sexy accent again, giving her goosebumps all over. Much was made over the American female 'obsession' with accents, but Blair had no trouble understanding it. If one was raised to be a good girl, then one needed to be tempted to be bad. If one was going to have to be talked out of her panties, shouldn't it be done with as much style as possible?

"Does it matter? If I were, would you wake me with a kiss?"

"Would you want me to?"

She ignored the question. "You're late!" she mock scolded. "I fell asleep waiting."

"Everyone's a critic," he grumbled.

"Everyone?" she laughed. "Surely not everyone. Who's your worst critic?"

He paused for a second. "A friend of mine. She just doesn't seem to realize that the rest of the world is not as perfect as she is. She makes perfection look easy."

Blair could hear the chuckle in his voice. She did not feel like joining in. A flash of irritation (some might call it jealousy) swept through her. Who was this seemingly perfect, albeit critical, female friend? Then she reminded herself that it was the second night of a Lost Weekend, and he was calling her, not the nameless, faceless, perfect critic. She allowed herself a little smile.

"Well, she's actually my second toughest critic. My father would be the worst. There is no pleasing him. I have given up."

"He can't be any tougher than my mother," Blair snorted. "I swear, I think she hates everything about me some days. Though I guess if you were a fashion designer, you'd want a daughter who's like Serena."

"A mannequin with brains to match?" he teased. "I see you two made up tonight. How did that go?"

"I hadn't really planned on that," she confessed. "But Serena was remarkably persistent about wanting to talk, and…," her voice trailed off.

"And?" he asked pointedly.

"Well, I got to the club and I looked around, trying to figure out why it felt so strange to me." He let her pause before she continued. "And then I realized it was because I missed my friends."

"But you were surrounded by people and you were smiling and laughing and…."

"I was surrounded by minions and strangers. It's not the same. Even when Serena was gone, I still had Nate and Chuck—yes, it's true, I even missed Chuck Bass tonight. We've all been friends since we were little," she explained. "They're like my family and I don't think I realized how much until tonight."

Chuck felt the same way, which was why it was imperative that he be sure she was willing to consider him as more than a friend before he revealed his identity.

"What did she say tonight that made you forgive her?"

"Just that she was sorry about the Shepherd wedding. She never meant for that to happen. She didn't know why it happened; they were just caught up in the heat of the moment. It bothered her while she was at boarding school, and she wanted to apologize to me, but didn't know how."

"You believe her?" The temptation to play devil's advocate was overwhelming.

"Yes. And no. I think I know why it happened."

"Too much champagne and too little clothing?"

"Those didn't hurt!" she laughed before getting serious again. "But all the time he was looking at Serena…she was looking back at him. I think she wanted him just as much."

He couldn't believe Blair was admitting this. "Why would you let that go on?" He didn't care that it sounded tactless, the words just sprang from his lips.

"It's over now, and I feel…relief. I feel free. I had a great time dancing tonight."

"You looked sensational. That sexy little skirt swirling around…making me wonder what was under it." His voice was liquid sin; there were no other words for it.

"I'm not going to tell you," her tone was teasing with a hint of sass. "Haven't we had enough truths for one night?"

"That's right, we are in need of some dares. In that case, I dare you to tell me what you're wearing under there."

"Why don't I show you instead?" she purred.

"I am waiting with bated breath," he announced.

His phone chimed. She was sending him a picture text! … Of two slender ankles in a pair of strappy black heels.

"Tease! I was thinking of something higher."

"You mean these?" She giggled.

The next picture was a pair of shapely shins and dimpled knees.

"Higher!"

She paused.

"Please? Don't make me beg."

"In that accent? Oh, I'd very much like to hear you beg."

He hoped she didn't really mean that, because at this point he was her willing slave.

It didn't matter that he'd caught two of the Striplets' best performances in the last forty-eight hours, he was prepared to beg, borrow or steal for one glimpse of Blair Waldorf's thighs right this minute.

She hesitated, unsure what to do. In all their years of dating, Nate had never asked something like that of her. No, a little voice inside her head reminded, he'd just lost his virginity to her best friend instead. Was it wrong that her admirer made her feel sexy and appreciated and…tempted?

Wrong or not, she was all in.

Just as he was convinced that he'd pushed too hard, that she wasn't going to take the picture, the text came through. The skin on her thighs was milky white and he just knew it would be petal soft and extra sensitive to his touch. His fingers ached to touch her, to sink into that silky skin, to hear her sharp intake of breath…

He completely missed his own gasp.

But Blair didn't, and she gloried in her feminine power over him.

When he breathed, "Panties?" she even laughed.

"Why, yes, I do wear them."

"Come on, show me your knickers, I dare you," he coaxed. "I bet they match your dress."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her tone was coy, but her mind was wary. Before she knew it, he'd have her out of her La Perlas and doing God knows what he might suggest next.

"Oh, I most definitely would. I'm prepared to beg…," Negotiation had never been so naughty.

"What if I have a dare in return?"

Oh-ho, so she was raising the stakes then…

"I say name your challenge. Demands can be…delicious."

The room suddenly felt very warm.

"I have to go to the planetarium tomorrow afternoon, because I missed the field trip earlier this week. I want you to come with me."

She wanted _what?!_ Part of him was thrilled that she wanted to meet and he was dying to say yes. The other part of him balked. He could not reveal his identity now. He was not ready. She was not ready. One false move and it could all go up in smoke.

But how could he explain that to her?

"Have you been to the planetarium before?" she was asking.

"Of course."

"Then you know that when the lights go down it's pitch black in there. You can't even see your hand in front of your face. Your secret identity can be safe a little while longer."

It was crazy. It was dangerous. Heaven help him, he was tempted.

"Are you afraid of the dark? I promise I'll hold your hand."

It was an offer he couldn't refuse. "Blair?"

"Hmm?"

"You trust me, right?"

"For some strange reason, I do." She sounded surprised herself.

"Then give me just a little more time with this…masquerade. I promise I'm not trying to deceive you."

"Don't make me wait too long," she cautioned.

"There are some things even I would not dare attempt." He even managed to sound humble as he said it.

"Speaking of new endeavors, have you done anything more with your music?"

"Yes, in fact -," he stopped short.

"In fact?"

"There's something I'm working on. When it's ready, I'll play it for you."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm looking forward to that panty pic," he reminded her. "I've seen you in a swimsuit, remember? Seeing you in your skivvies isn't that much of a stretch, is it?"

"I'll let you decide. I'm hanging up now, before you can talk me into—or out of—anything else. I'll see you tomorrow at 3 at the planetarium."

"I wouldn't miss it. Good night."

She had already hung up.

A second later, the pic came up, signed with a "Good night, xoxo." The barely there La Perlas were indeed substantially smaller than her swimsuit. Black Chantilly lace with eyelash trim covered stretch georgette that was cut to flatter the curve of her hips. If he knew La Perla, and he most certainly did, there was a matching bra that went with the panties. He wanted to see it, to touch it, and then he wanted to slowly peel them both off her porcelain skin.

He sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

It was going to be a very long day, Blair thought with a sigh.

By midday she abandoned all pretense of occupying herself with other activities and began getting ready in earnest.

She tried on a half dozen different outfits, until her room look like a designer's atelier had exploded and Dorota grumbled that she didn't understand "why Miss Blair so worried about outfit that no one see in dark."

After much debate, Blair finally settled on a dark button-up with a cream-colored, rhinestone-trimmed cardigan over a flirty navy skirt with polka dots. It was a nod to the red polka dotted dress he'd said she was wearing the first time he ever saw her. She finished off the ensemble with white stockings and conservative heels—who knew how tall he was, anyway?

She was ready early, nervously pacing around until it was time to leave-early again, because she didn't want to get caught in traffic, even though that was unlikely on a Sunday afternoon. Dorota breathed a sigh of relief once she left the apartment and the peace was once again restored.

Ticket in hand, Blair surveyed the planetarium's seating area. She wanted somewhere away from the families with restless children, but still fairly accessible for him once he arrived. Satisfied with her choice, she sat down and checked her compact once more. Keep calm, she reminded herself, this is not a date.

This is not a date.

This is not a date.

It totally felt like a date.

It felt like one of the best scenes from her favorite classic movies come to life, except this was better because it was real. Truth was stranger but oh so much more glorious than fiction.

The lights began to dim, slowly eclipsing the auditorium in darkness, and fear flashed through her mind. What if he couldn't find her in the dark? What if it turned out to be an awkward meeting? What if she'd made a mistake in choosing this venue for this first meeting?

Finally, the room was in complete darkness and the classical music in the background rose.

Where was he? What if he'd changed his mind and was no longer coming to meet her?

One by one, the stars on the ceiling of the planetarium began to blink into focus.

And then he was there, sliding into the seat next to her. She could feel his presence, but try as she might—and she really did try, she could not make out more than a shadowy outline of his body.

He was a few inches taller than she was, and he smelled divine. Notes of mint from his toothpaste mingled with a somewhat familiar musky scent. Was that his cologne or was it simply him? She swallowed.

"Is it you?" she whispered.

"Were you expecting someone else?" There was the accent again, a thousand times sexier breathed into her ear.

Goosebumps rose on her arms, even under her sweater and sleeves, and her heart was going a mile a minute.

She gripped the armrest on her seat, only to be surprised when his hand came up and covered her own. It was warm and strong, with long, elegant fingers (well, he was a musician, she reminded herself) and his velvety fingertips traced the outline of her hand.

"You said you'd hold my hand," he reminded her, "In case I'm afraid of the dark."

"And are you?" she whispered back.

"I'm only afraid you won't take my hand," he confessed. Despite the adopted accent, there was something so familiar, almost comforting, about that voice….

She relaxed then and turned her hand over, allowing their fingers to intertwine. A jolt passed between them, through their fingers and up their arms. Had they been able to see each other's faces, they would have seen twin looks of awe.

"I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find me in the dark," she confessed.

"You're luminous," he replied, as if stating a well-known fact. "I don't need light to find you."

"That's good," she tried to keep her tone light and unaffected, "because I can't see a thing right now."

"Maybe you're the one afraid of the dark. Maybe I should hold your hand a little tighter?" He squeezed her fingertips.

"I'm not afraid of anything with you." She squeezed right back.

They settled into a companionable silence, fingers still entwined, as the film on the ceiling took them through the galaxy, past planets and moons, past stars and solar systems. Blair felt as if she herself were flying. Just sitting here in the dark with him was better than she'd even imagined.

Suddenly the music rose dramatically as a star went supernova and exploded into a million brilliant bits of light and cosmic dust. The louder music combined with the flash of brightness startled Blair and her clutch began to slip off her lap. Panicked, she let go of his hand as she tried to reach for it…

But he beat her to it, gently sliding her bag back into her lap. Unfortunately, the movement hiked up her skirt, causing his hand to ghost over a stocking-covered thigh and graze the top of her stocking band and a slice of silky skin above it.

Oh…My…God.

They gasped in unison, both suddenly breathless.

This was it, this was the time for him to withdraw his hand, to smooth down her skirt and pretend this never happened.

Except it had happened in his dreams many times last night, and his fingers seemed to have developed a mind of their own, for they stretched out and gently, tentatively stroked the skin on her inner thigh.

It lasted no longer than a second.

This was it, this was the time for her to rearrange her skirt and take his hand back in hers, except…

Her lips released a little "mmm" of appreciation in a wish for more.

And they were both lost.

His fingers splayed over her skin, exploring the textured landscapes of the silk of her stocking, the lace of the band and the perfection of the supremely soft skin above it.

"So soft. I couldn't sleep last night. I could only dream about you, about this." His fingers pressed more deeply, rhythmically tracing patterns over the silkiness of her.

Somehow his other arm went around her and he was holding her, touching her, feeling her shiver in his arms as she tucked her face into his neck.

He wanted to kiss her so badly then. His lips ached to explore hers. And she was right there…so close…her little breaths were teasing the hairs on his neck, teasing him.

She was wearing her lipstick. Even though he couldn't see it, he could smell it and he was starving for a taste of it, for a taste of her.

But he couldn't.

He dare not.

Because he could not, in all good conscience, taste her lips until she knew it was him. He wanted to share a kiss, not steal one from her.

There was no way around it: he was going to have to tell her.

And soon.

But not this soon.

He looked up to see the rings of Saturn float by, a sign that they were well into their return trip through the solar system. Once they returned to Earth, metaphorically speaking, the film would end and the lights would come up.

He had to go now.

And it was killing him.

Because the notorious playboy, creator of Lost Weekends and dilettante of debauchery, would have happily stayed all day and all night just like this, in the arms of his sensual Ice Queen, happy just to be touching her. He was losing his mind…and his heart.

Reluctantly, he forced his fingers to pull away from her leg, to smooth down her skirt, to take her hand and plant one chaste kiss on the back of it.

"Goodbye," he whispered in a voice free of any accent.

She should know that voice, she told herself, but all she could think about was that their date was over and he was leaving. She bit her lip in vexation.

As he slipped out of the auditorium, they were both thinking the same thing:

This had been the very best kind of heaven and the very worst sort of hell.

* * *

He had barely left and already she'd begun to count down the time until she could talk to him or (almost) see him again. Blair was high on the euphoria of reliving every single second they'd spent together and dizzy from the anticipation of more.

She felt carefree, happy, lighter than air.

So it was a great shock to come home and find her mother at the dining room table, surrounded by boxes and photo albums, and barking orders to a rumpled and flustered Dorota.

"Mother!" It really shouldn't be such a surprise to find one of her parents at home, but her mother was so frequently in Paris or Milan or traveling for the business that their penthouse seemed more of a pied a terre than a real family home to Eleanor.

"Oh, Blair, there you are! Come in here and help us," she waved an arm towards the pile of boxes and albums.

Blair bit back a smile at her mother's use of the royal "we" and reminded herself that she would not let Eleanor get to her today. Whatever criticism, careless remark or judgment Eleanor might make would just have to roll off her, like water on a duck's back. Blair would not let it affect her, not today when she had been so happy.

"What are you working on?"

Her mother smiled then. "Vanity Fair is doing a retrospective of my career and they want more shots of my early years, so I'm looking for some of my best pieces from years past. See what you can find." She pushed some albums towards Blair.

Blair leafed through the pages, listening to her mother prattle on about supply problems in Paris and the collection she was working on for Milan Fashion Week. Ordinarily, Blair would have found it interesting. Fashion was fascinating. It was art, architecture, history, and so many other things expressed in a single piece of cloth. But this evening she was distracted by thoughts of the afternoon's interstellar rendezvous. Despite her frustration at not being able to see him, their meeting had exceeded her expectations. The way he had held her hand, whispered in her ear…caressed her thigh. Just the memory of it sent little ripples of delight through her.

The phone in her pocket chimed.

The text read, "Starlight becomes you. Even if it's just projected on the ceiling."

Involuntarily, she blushed and the corners of her mouth curved into a secret smile. A detail that did not go unnoticed by her mother.

"And how is Nate, darling?"

"I'm sure he's fine. We broke up," she said absently, not even looking up from her phone.

"What?" Eleanor was as shocked by her daughter's lack of reaction as she was by the news of their split. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing and you'll be back together in no time."

"I doubt it. We are better off as friends, I think." She was still looking down at her phone and typing quickly.

Eleanor was completely stymied. Who was this girl and what had she done with her starry-eyed daughter who'd compiled scrapbooks planning her grand Archibald society wedding before she'd finished elementary school?

Blair looked up to find her mother's penetrating gaze fixed on her. Startled, she pocketed the phone and went back to the stack of albums. She pulled out a photo of a 1980-something Eleanor in a silk shantung jumpsuit with heavily padded shoulders and a decorative belt. "I've always liked this one. What do you think?"

Eleanor smiled and nodded. She could let it go for now, but she'd have to talk to Dorota later. Something was definitely going on with Blair and it was a shame that she had to leave again for Europe before she could solve it herself.

* * *

When Blair pranced down the stairs the following morning, she was surprised to see her mother's luggage by the elevator and her mother calmly sipping her morning coffee and still perusing photos.

"Darling, you're up. Wonderful! Could you take a look at these photos, please? I think I've made my final selection to show to the Vanity Fair people." Eleanor pushed a small folder of prints Blair's way.

Blair flipped through the pictures, smiling at some of the choices. And then there it was…

Near the bottom of the stack.

A seemingly innocent print of Blair herself.

At age four.

In Central Park.

The memory of a previous online conversation with her secret admirer flashed through Blair's head:

 _Your Secret Santa: I've known you for a long time._

 _Queen B: If that's true, what was I wearing the first time we met?_

 _Your Secret Santa: You were wearing a red dress, with tiny little polka dots, and a huge red bow in your hair._

Red pinafore with white polka dots? Check.

Ginormous bow perched atop baby-fine curls? Check.

Surely there could not be two such distinctive outfits in the universe?

She could swear her heart actually stopped for a second before beating wildly, so strongly she thought it might come out of her chest. There was a buzzing in her ears and her mother's voice sounded like it was a great distance away. She completely forgot to breathe.

Suddenly she remembered everything.

She remembered it was her favorite dress at the time. She remembered the sunlight filtering through the trees. She remembered feeding the ducks. She remembered Dorota snapping the picture. And then she remembered who she had met for the first time that day.

But it wasn't possible.

It simply couldn't be true.

There was no way, no possible way, that her anonymous admirer, her secret friend, the guy who made her smile and whose touch made her shiver was…

Chuck Bass?!

To Be Continued in Chapter 7

* * *

Author's Note: Well, Blair has had a bit of a realization, hasn't she? What is she thinking now? What will she do next? We'll find out in the next chapter!

Special thanks to Almaloney33, Chairship and Chrys1130 for beta brilliance.

Guess what? I had a birthday recently and got some very cool gifts, including a wonderful chapter called "Butterflies" in SnowedUnderNJ's _The Future Is Ours,_ and an awesome video on YouTube featuring some of my favorite ship couples by my friend ChuckBlairLuvA. Check them out!

This chapter was a bit of a challenge to write and I hope I did it justice. Leave a review or drop me a line and let me know what you think. Readers and reviewers rock! Thank you for your ongoing kindness and support.

Until next time,

Xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck's late-night phone call led to more phone calls and dares, including an incognito date at the planetarium. Blair came across a photo that contained a forgotten childhood memory…and a shocking revelation of her admirer's identity.

Chapter 7

Blair stood stock still, looking down at the photograph.

Her mother followed her eyes down to the picture. "Ah, yes, remember that little red dress I made for you? It was so sweet with the polka dots and the ruffled trim. And you insisted on wearing that huge bow headband…it was almost too big for your head back then…," Eleanor smiled at the memory.

She could not do this. She could not stand here and pretend it was a perfectly normal morning reminiscing about her childhood with her mother—not that there was such a thing as a normal morning with her mother.

She had to get out of here. NOW.

"I—I have to go…to school," Blair explained unnecessarily.

"Of course, darling. Give me a kiss before you go. After the messenger picks up the pictures, I have a meeting at the atelier and then it's back to Paris for a few days. But we'll talk soon, I promise."

Blair nodded absently before grazing her mother's cheek with her lips, lips rouged with The Fire Below.

"That's a lovely shade of lipstick, Blair. It suits you perfectly. Almost as if it were made for you."

At another time, Blair would have been ecstatic that her mother praised something about her appearance, but not today.

The elevator beckoned.

"Aren't you going to have something for breakfast before you go?"

"Not really hungry right now," Blair threw over her shoulder before stepping into the elevator. "Safe travels, Mother."

Blair's thoughts began to race as the elevator car descended. Down, down, down it went, like the shock that was even now settling into the pit of her stomach.

It couldn't be true! There was no way her romantic, attentive admirer could possibly be her carousing, womanizing friend. Her head tried to reconcile these two disparate images into one, and failed completely. The realization was such a shock that it surely must have fried some circuits in her brain.

Denial stepped in and took over.

It could not be Chuck Bass.

Put on the spot, her admirer had doubtless made up the outfit she'd been wearing when they'd first met. Did guys even notice girl's clothes? Didn't all children's clothing look alike to some degree? Her mother did not possess a patent on ruffly red polka-dotted pinafores. It was simply coincidence that she had an outfit that perfectly matched his description.

Down to the very details.

And that she'd met someone that day.

It was simply a lucky guess on his part.

It was a dress, for goodness' sake, not a DNA test. Not conclusive evidence at all.

It was not Chuck Bass.

She argued in her own head all the way to school. Then she decided to put an end to it. She would find Chuck, take a look at him, and she would know, for sure, that he was not her admirer. And then she could go on about her life without this possible knowledge wreaking further havoc on her.

He was in the courtyard with a bunch of his friends, including Nate. And damned if he didn't look good. Impeccably tailored, not a hair out of place unless he'd put it there. No one should look that good after a weekend of debauchery. Of course, if he were really her admirer, then he'd spent half the weekend on the phone with her and most of the afternoon yesterday at the planetarium. In the dark. Holding her hand. How debauched could he have possibly gotten under those circumstances?

As if he had some sort of extra sensitivity to her presence, he looked up and their eyes locked.

A warmth came into his caramel eyes when he saw her. One of the things she simultaneously loved and hated about Chuck Bass was that he seemed to see everything. No detail, regardless how minute, escaped his scrutiny. His eyes lingered, just for a second, on her patterned dark stockings and then on her perfectly shaded lips. Almost imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth stretched and curled into a brief smile as he held her eyes.

Oh, God, no!

It was so brief that she never would have noticed had she not been trying to gauge his reaction.

But she had, and a second was all she needed.

She knew now, without a doubt, that it was him.

Oh, God, no!

Fight or flight? It was the universal question since the beginning of time, and one for which Blair Waldorf did not require a lengthy mental debate.

He looked away for a second, and she turned on her Manolo heels and took off at a run, as if the hounds of hell (or maybe their fallen angel master) were chasing her.

She ran and ran, until she was out of breath, with no real sense of where she was going, only that she was trying to escape. Finally, she stopped and forced herself to collect her thoughts. There was no way she was going back to school this morning.

Or possibly ever again.

And then she knew where she needed to go. If ever there was an issue she needed help dealing with, this was it.

She hailed a cab. "The Ostroff Center, please."

* * *

"Dr. Maloney?" Her office assistant waited until the previous patient closed the door behind her before making the query.

"Yes, Sandy?" The doctor looked up her notes.

"Blair Waldorf is here. In the reception area."

"Her appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"She said it's an emergency and she's willing to wait if you can squeeze her in."

Allison frowned. She hoped Blair was all right. The word "emergency" never sounded good, but she reminded herself not to borrow trouble until she knew more about the situation. She closed the file on her lap. "Is there anyone else waiting right now?"

"Not at the moment. You have a half hour before the next scheduled patient is due to arrive."

"Sandy, call and cancel my morning appointments, please. If they must see me today, make it for the end of the day. Tell them I appreciate their understanding."

Then Sandy was off, and Blair Waldorf was in Dr. Maloney's office.

Blair was pale, her usually pristine clothing rumpled and her shoes splashed with mud. She looked about as un-Blair-like as possible. The situation must be dire.

"Blair, come in and sit down." Really, the girl needed to sit down before she fell down. "What's going on?"

"What's going on?" Blair's voice was shrill. "Oh, where do I start? This morning I learned the identity of my secret admirer."

"He told you?" Allison leaned forward in curiosity. "Oh, Blair, that's wonderful!"

"Wonderful?!" If anything, the young woman's voice rose even higher. "How can you say that? It's the worst thing ever!"

"Blair, we need to be on the same page. Can you start by catching me up with everything that's happened since your appointment last Thursday?"

And so Blair launched into a tale that included the showdown and eventual reconciliation with Serena, reinstated texting that graduated to phone calls with her admirer, the dare of the planetarium date (sans details of his stroking her thigh), the shock of finding the photo clue and finally, how seeing Chuck Bass this morning convinced her that he was indeed her (no longer) secret admirer.

"Are you certain that he is really your admirer?"

Blair nodded vigorously.

"What makes you so certain?"

"I could see it in his eyes, in the way he looked at me. He looked at my lips, at my lipstick, and then he smiled at me!" Blair sounded torn between incredulity and embarrassment.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No." A decidedly monosyllabic response from her usually talkative patient.

"Did you say anything to him?"

"No."

"What exactly did you do, Blair?" It was time to make inquiries that involved more than "yes" or "no" answers.

"He looked away for a second and I turned and ran…here."

"You ran all the way here from your school?" Allison was surprised.

"Well, I ran several blocks, then I hailed a cab," she admitted with a blush.

"I see."

"You don't seem very surprised to learn that it's Chuck," Blair pointed out.

"Were you?" Allison countered.

"I was floored. Stunned! Horrified!" Now this was more like the Blair she knew.

"Looking back, were there clues you missed at the time?"

Blair silently considered the question.

The ease in which he'd obtained access to her locker. Of course the combination was her birthday; it had always been that.

The fact that his mother had died when he was born—something not terribly common in this day and age.

That he played the piano. Blair recalled the baby grand that used to sit in the Bass's suite, but like their other friends, she accepted his casual explanation that he'd grown tired of playing it.

That every gift was so thoughtfully and carefully selected. All perfect choices that seemed to be made by someone who knew her well—because he did! Her admirer was clearly resourceful. How else could he have gotten Christian Louboutin to create a custom lipstick just for her?

That he hung onto his anonymity for far longer than she would've expected. There was really no point in it once she and Nate had broken up.

That lovely faux British accent. Now she recalled that Chuck had spent a year in London when they were eight and his father was opening a new hotel there.

Their peace treaty in the halls of Constance. His flirty comments. The electric spark she felt from just a mere handshake with him. It was the same spark she'd felt holding his hand in the dark.

The evocative scent of him and the familiar tones in his voice, especially when he'd told her goodbye at the planetarium…

She should have known.

Clearly.

Blair could not think how to explain all that to her therapist.

Faced with silence, Dr. Maloney tried a new tack. "Now that the secret is out, how will this affect your relationship with Chuck?"

"We are friends. There is no other relationship with Chuck. There can't be."

"What makes you say that?"

Blair stood up and began to pace. "A myriad of reasons," she sighed, as though she were talking to a very young and naïve child. "First of all, he's Nate's best friend."

"Is there a part of you still hoping for reconciliation with Nate?"

She shook her head. "Not now. Maybe before all this happened, I would've held out, hoped he'd return, but honestly, I'm tired of competing with my best friend for my boyfriend's attention. I deserve better, and I know that now. I want to be with someone who wants to be with me."

"That's good. So Nate is truly your ex then?" Allison needed to hear her confirm it.

"Ex-boyfriend, yes. Ex-friend, hopefully not for too much longer. When I was out dancing, I realized how much I miss hanging out with Serena and Nate and Chuck," she stopped short when she realized what she'd just said.

"So you are free now. Free to date whomever you wish," Allison reminded her.

"But not him! It could never be him."

"I'm curious to learn more about his ineligibility."

Blair sighed. "Chuck has never had a girlfriend. Ever. Not even once. Which is not to say that there haven't been girls. Oh, there have been plenty of girls. His suite needs a revolving door. I think he's allergic to monogamy," she added bitterly.

Clearly Blair did not approve.

"He binges on girls like I binge on macarons—or used to. He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body and he's not interested in anything that doesn't involve sex, drugs or scotch."

"Really? That doesn't sound like your admirer at all. That gentleman seems like the master of the romantic gesture. I mean, he has put in a lot of time and trouble-not to mention, money-into wooing you."

"He's playing a game with me. He has to be." Was she trying to convince her therapist or herself of that?

"Maybe Chuck has never been interested in a relationship with someone because the someone he wanted to have a relationship with was unavailable?" Dr. Maloney mused.

"Me?" Blair squeaked. "That's absurd! We-," her voice trailed off a she recalled a lifetime of smiles and schemes, of little moments where Chuck had seemed more attuned to her than anyone else in her life. She remembered that awful time when she'd been adjusting to her father and Serena both being gone from her life and the distance of her mother and her boyfriend made her feel so very isolated and lonely. Somehow Chuck had known and had sent her a bouquet of the most beautiful pink peonies and a giant box of macarons. Had he cared even then?

Dr. Maloney could sense that Blair was retreating into herself once more, trying to process everything and reconcile the image of her old friend with that of her new admirer. She looked down at her notes. "Blair, according to what you've said, you can't be in a relationship with Chuck because of his connection to your ex-boyfriend, his past exploits with the ladies and the possibility that he is being insincere in his attentions. Is that right?"

She thought about it for a second before nodding.

"What you haven't said yet is what is most important: how do you feel about him? Do you want him?"

"Do I want him?" Blair looked at Allison as though she'd sprouted two heads and both were talking nonsense.

"Yes, are you attracted to him?"

"Attracted?"

Allison resisted the strong impulse to roll her eyes. Was there an echo in here?

"Of course, that may be asking a great deal. Your Nate is very handsome, isn't he?" At Blair's nod, she continued, "I can certainly see why you might not be interested in Chuck if he were, um, less blessed in the looks department than his friend."

"Nooo," Blair said slowly. "They are both very handsome in their own way."

"Tell me what Chuck looks like."

"You could say he sort of looks like a movie idol from old Hollywood. He has dark hair, and his eyes are dark too. Sometimes. They change colors. Sometimes they are more amber and sometimes more mahogany. His cheekbones and jawline are works of art."

"Too short? Too tall?" the good doctor prodded.

"Neither. He is just right, a few inches taller than I am."

"Maybe he's a sloppy dresser?" Allison could not resist taking her devil's advocate role just a step further.

Blair drew back in horror before bristling again. "Chuck?! Oh, no, he always looks his best. He doesn't follow the trends; he sets them. He doesn't have to read GQ, because GQ studies him."

"So his physical appearance is not a detriment then?"

"How do you think he gets all those girls?!" Blair did roll her eyes then.

"You said you've been friends practically your entire lives, so there must be something you like about his personality. Tell me about his good qualities."

Where to start? She paused for a second or two before responding. "While he may not care about a lot of people, he is fiercely loyal to those he does care about. He and Nate have been best friends since they met," she explained. "Plus, he's witty and smart. He sees everything," she thought about those lovely, knowing eyes, "even little details that anyone else might miss. He's the perfect partner for a scheme. Which is why I can't believe he'd scheme against me like this."

"Let's say, for argument's sake, that Chuck is indeed being earnest in his pursuit of you. That he genuinely cares about you, that all he wants is a chance to know you better. What's the worst that could happen by taking that chance with him?"

"I won't be made a fool of, at least not a bigger fool than I've already been." Blair's jaw was set stubbornly.

"But if he's sincere…," Dr. Maloney pointed out.

"He can't be, even if he believes he is now." She said it as if she were stating some incontestable fact, like the sky was blue.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because…," she paused and two large tears welled up in her eyes, "if I wasn't enough for Nate, there is no way I could ever be for Chuck Bass."

"Perhaps you aren't giving him enough credit. Perhaps the reason he doesn't want to reveal his identity yet is because he doesn't want to end the relationship that's developing between you."

"But I can't have a relationship with a ghost," she said with a sad little sigh, "and I can't have one with Chuck Bass either."

"Even knowing that there is a great deal more to Chuck than just the partying, playboy persona he shows the world? What about the young man he's shown you he can be? Can you ignore that he exists?"

Blair looked pensive…and torn.

"You say that he was your friend, albeit an anonymous one, when you really needed him. He encouraged you to come back to therapy. He lifted your spirits with his little notes and gifts. You even carry yourself differently than you did a few weeks ago. Before you rule out the possibility of anything more than friendship with him, consider those things also."

"But I thought you didn't want me to get romantically involved with anyone while I'm starting my recovery?"

Allison sighed. "It's good advice, but words will only take you so far. You can plan many things in life, but when love finds you is not one of them," she admitted. "Besides, I know you, Blair: when you know what you want, you go after it. No mere words, from myself or any other person, are likely to hold you back."

"But that's just it: I don't know what I want!"

"Don't you?" Dr. Maloney raised her brow. "Ask yourself what will make you happy. Then pursue it. But make that decision based on what you truly desire, not on what you fear."

Blair's stomach chose that very moment to growl with hunger, startling them both.

"Blair, how have you been doing with managing your bulimia? Are you eating?"

"Normally, yes, but when I came downstairs this morning and saw that picture, everything else left my mind, including breakfast."

"Let me give you an excuse to go back to school, and you stop and get something to eat on the way. Remember the strategies we talked about for dealing with difficult times. Stress is a trigger, so be mindful in your eating. Eat slowly, put your utensils down between bites, and know that you can't swallow your feelings, but you can deal with them directly."

Blair's stomach growled again.

It was only late morning and it already felt like a very long day.

* * *

Where was she?

Chuck had been chomping at the bit to see her again since he'd awakened that morning—no, actually since he'd left her at the planetarium yesterday afternoon.

At least missing her was what he attributed the strange feelings he was experiencing after their anonymous date.

He couldn't eat.

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

He couldn't stop smiling when thinking of her.

He felt electrified and energized by their time together.

The euphoria was actually making him feel like there was something in his stomach…fluttering. Butterflies.

He didn't know what to call it. He didn't know how to describe it. Was there even a word for it? Not in English there wasn't! Maybe he needed a dictionary….

And more important, was she feeling any of this too?

Catching a glimpse of her in the courtyard at school had simultaneously made it both better and worse.

On one hand, seeing her come into view was like coming home, like finding the missing puzzle piece. It soothed him in some way.

His eyes drank in legs encased in patterned lace stockings, her swishy skirt, her always proper blouse and blazer…and then they got to her face. Those deep dark eyes were gazing at him expectantly, almost studying him, and her perfectly painted lips parted, as if she were about to pose a question.

And suddenly all the symptoms he'd been experiencing increased tenfold. Could butterflies actually swarm? That was certainly what it felt like.

One of his companions asked him something then, and he turned away for the briefest of seconds. When his eyes returned to where she'd been standing before, she was gone.

He spent the rest of the morning trying to subtly look for her. He went to class, but couldn't concentrate. He spent most of his time trying to research a word for how he was feeling. Finally, after much googling, he did come up with something he thought approached his feelings, and he'd been right—it wasn't an English word.

When lunch was half over and Blair still hadn't turned up on the Met steps, Chuck gave up. He penned a quick note to Blair and left it in her locker, then he called Arthur to bring the limo around. There were better uses for his time today.

* * *

As was common, Bart Bass worked through lunch, eating an apple and drinking a black coffee as he perused financial reports, this time those from his son's private account. Some might consider Bart to be the epitome of absentee fatherhood, and it was true he did not spend a great deal of time with his only son, but he nonetheless kept tabs on him quite thoroughly.

His eyes came to a stop at a couple of entries that were tagged, "J. Gold, Ph.D."

Who was this person? A tutor? A life coach?

A phone call clarified the matter. Dr. Jessica Gold was a psychologist based on the Upper East Side. Her area of specialization was…relationships.

Oh, dear God, no.

Deep down he'd always known that somehow he would fail Evelyn in raising their son. And now here was concrete proof that he had.

All he'd ever wanted was to get Chuck safely to adulthood, to groom him to be part of the business and to eventually take a role in the company that Bart had founded. Chuck would make a sensible marriage that was both beneficial to the business and would produce grandchildren for the family line. That really wasn't so much to ask, was it?

Apparently, it was, because the truth was staring him right in the face.

Despite this past weekend, his son had taken to spending less and less time and money on wine and women in the last few weeks.

Instead, he had taken to visiting planetariums and ordering custom-created cosmetics.

He'd always worn a rather alarming amount of purple.

There was no escaping it: Chuck was clearly gay.

Bart pushed the apple aside and reached into his desk drawer for the scotch he had stashed there for use in time of need. If this news didn't meet that criteria, he didn't know what would.

* * *

Upon returning to school, Blair still felt conflicted.

What did she want?

Well, that was easy: She wanted to be right back at the planetarium, sitting with him in the dark, holding his hand, savoring the feel of his fingers stroking sensual patterns down her thigh.

Except "he" now had a face and a name: he was Chuck Bass.

Her friend.

Her enemy.

And now…her dirty little secret.

She just couldn't reconcile the two men in her mind.

With a start, she remembered the pics she'd sent Saturday night, especially the last one of her in her panties. Oh, sweet merciful heavens, had she really sexted Chuck Bass?!

And his female friend—the one who was his "second biggest critic"? The one she'd—okay, she could admit it now—been jealous of? She'd actually been envying herself!

How was it that knowing his identity helped some things, like his music and family history, make more sense, while causing others to be completely illogical?

She was so confused her head hurt and she felt her anger rising that he'd put her in this position. She ought to call him out on it. Give him a piece of her mind and let him feel her wrath. Send him packing.

Except…

She would also be losing her best friend, the only person who'd ever put her first, chosen her. The person she dreamed about. She'd never before believed that real life could be more magical than a fairy tale or a movie, but the last few weeks had convinced her of just that.

She remembered him holding her in the dark, her face snuggled into his neck. All the while she'd been wishing that he would bend his head down and touch his lips to hers. She knew if he had, the response would've been electric, chemical, magical.

Just as it had been when he took her hand.

Both in the theater in the dark and in the hall at Constance.

She shook herself out of her reverie. She was here at school for her education. She didn't have time for distractions. She would avoid him, even thinking of him, until the day was over.

And then she saw it.

Sitting there on the shelf in her locker. A plain white envelope with her name inscribed on the back.

She was torn between wild excitement at seeing it there and cursing herself for not recognizing the handwriting on any of the earlier missives.

Euphoria overcame self-recrimination and she ripped it open and read it without delay.

It was one line.

"Kilig. Do you feel it too?"

It would help if she actually knew what "it" was, so it was off to the library, her next class conveniently forgotten.

Kilig was a Tagalog word, one which did not have an English equivalent. It meant a shudder or thrill, "exhilaration or elation caused by an exciting or romantic experience."

Did she feel it too?

Oh, yes, yes, yes!

The feeling didn't go away for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

When her phone rang later that evening, she picked it up eagerly.

Then she heard the accent, and her heart sank and fury coursed through her. How dare he make her feel these things and then continue to hide from her? She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind….

"There's something I want you to hear," he said.

Oh, this had better be good, she thought.

And it was.

Beautiful notes of music began to stream into her ear. He had her on speakerphone and was playing the piano for her.

She didn't recognize the piece of music, but was instead swept away by the level of his skill. Who knew Chuck could play like this?!

It was her own private performance. A glimpse into the man she was sure no one else had ever seen. And she wanted to see more.

The piece wasn't long and he waited for her reaction at the end.

"It's beautiful, perfect," she said, awe in her voice. "I don't recognize the music, though."

"It's called 'For Blair' since you are what inspired it."

"Me?" she echoed, almost speechless. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She could only feel.

"Always," he answered with the accent, and suddenly she so wished he would say it in his own voice. That was what she wanted. That was who she wanted. Despite every reason why it was wrong, why it wouldn't work and why she was likely to end up with a broken heart, his pull was too strong to resist.

In the end, everything was simple: She needed him to tell her the truth, to reveal himself to her, to let her know this thing between them was real and would not vanish in the light of day.

She was done being passive now. She was going after what she wanted.

And he might run to her or from her, but either way, he'd be on the run.

For the first time in a long time, Blair felt powerful. She was ready to let go and take that leap.

To Be Continued In Chapter 8

* * *

Author's Note: Hmm, how will Blair go about getting Chuck to reveal his true identity to her? Does she have a plan? Should Chuck be afraid…very, very afraid? The answers await!

They say it takes a village to raise a child. I say it takes a village to write a chapter, and this chapter had some amazing contributions:

Thank you, Almaloney33, for coming up with the perfect questions for the good doctor to ask Blair. I will admit that I shamelessly used them all, except for "What are you afraid of, you big baby? Go forth and get yourself a Chuck fix." A valid question, nonetheless.

Thanks to ChairShip for helping me choose the right way to ask them, and for always finding the illogical little things I type at 2 a.m.

Thank you, Chrys1130, for always talking fic with me, even at midnight and about several stories on several different timelines all at once.

Thank you, lovely reviewer DirekFrancis, for introducing me to the word "kilig" and using it in a review that I will always cherish and remember. Obviously, I couldn't wait to use it.

Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. We are on this story journey together! I hope you enjoyed this latest installment and I look forward to hearing from you.

Reviewer crossingby was "looking forward to an update (to TGC)…if there is…one." Oh, there definitely will be. TGC is all planned out, even down to the final sentence of the story and any sequel possibilities. I just felt I was leaving OSINT at a pivotal point and we needed to see how Blair dealt with that surprising revelation first.

Until next time,

xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

Last time in the Secretverse: Blair accidentally discovered the identity of her secret admirer. At first, she felt conflicted. And then she made up her mind what she wanted.

Chapter 8

Artist and starry night aficionado Vincent van Gogh once said that he often thought the night was "more alive and richly colored than the day." It was a time of magic. The eyes might be limited in their outward abilities, but the other senses become more focused, more attuned, and the inner eyes are able to discern the normally invisible enchantments that swirl in the air around us.

In the night, more is revealed than concealed.

Perhaps that is why we close our eyes when we kiss. To allow all our senses to fully engage and open us up to the magic that was there all along.

Tonight Chuck Bass believed in magic, its existence and power. And the reason why was Blair Waldorf.

* * *

Dr. Jessica Gold had been anxiously awaiting her last appointment of the day. Not because it meant the end of the workday, but because of her client. Chuck Bass was due in after school and she might finally get some answers to the questions that kept piquing her curiosity.

At their last session, Chuck had seemed to be conflicted about revealing his identity to Blair, but Jessica believed he had considered the pros and cons and was moving towards some sort of resolution to the secret admirer situation.

Perhaps even now he had already revealed himself. In the week since she had last seen him, surely something had developed in his relationship with his maybe-more-than-friend.

Jessica felt sure of it for several reasons, not the least of which was Dr. Allison Maloney.

They had agreed not to discuss either of their patients in any way, shape or form. But that was proving to be more challenging than she'd expected. Allison had been acting strangely all week, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't, as if she were holding a secret. Then, just this morning, Jessica had caught Allison gazing longingly at her attache case by the front door, as if she wanted to peek inside.

Clearly, Allison had some insider knowledge that she didn't – and the thirst for that knowledge was consuming Jessica.

Chuck walked in like he owned the place, which, given his family, easily applied to half of the real estate in Manhattan.

Jessica was in no mood to appreciate a slow saunter or relaxed demeanor. She cut straight to the chase. "So, Chuck, tell me about your week. Are you out of the secret admirer closet?"

Chuck frowned as he sat down. "Not exactly."

Dr. Gold frowned back. "What exactly does that mean? Does Blair know that you and her admirer are one and the same?"

He shook his head. "Not yet." When it looked like she was going to interrupt, he continued, "But there have been developments."

"Developments?" She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"First we talked…on the phone…."

"On the phone? Didn't she recognize your voice?"

He lowered his eyes…and was that slight flush of color a blush? "I used an English accent. I lived there for a year when I was younger."

"So now she thinks you're British?" Jessica's nose wrinkled in confusion as she tried to keep up.

"No," he laughed, "she knows there are no English students at our schools…and she called me on it." He sounded proud of her deductive powers.

"But she talked to you anyway? She wasn't angry at your little deception?"

"I did not deceive her! I would never do that," he bristled. "I just haven't told her who I am."

"Don't you think that knowing the identity of both parties is a very important factor in a relationship?"

"I do," he agreed, "but it's not time yet."

"Chuck, how can you ever proceed with your relationship if she doesn't know it's you?"

"We already have 'proceeded.' We met at the planetarium on Sunday afternoon."

"You went out on a date? How did you manage that? Were you in disguise?" she asked, half joking but half serious.

"I met her after the lights went down and the auditorium was in complete darkness. And I left before they came back up."

"I thought you were hosting your Lost Weekend then?" She wasn't getting answers, only generating new questions.

"I was. I ended it early so I could go meet her."

She had a strong suspicion that the Chuck Bass of just a few weeks ago would've never contemplated doing that for a girl.

"Tell me more about this date. Who asked who?"

"She asked me, more like she dared me."

"Perhaps she was hoping you would reveal your identity there?"

"I figured I was safe; you can't see your hand in front of your face in there."

"Safe. It's interesting you use that word. Do you feel safer being anonymous with Blair?"

"I feel like she won't be shocked…or hurt…or disgusted. This way, we can just be together."

Dr. Gold sighed. "But, Chuck, we don't know that she will feel any of those things. There is only one way to find out and that is to tell her. I'm really surprised you haven't done so yet."

Chuck refused to meet her eyes. "Spare me the disappointment lecture. Or just give it to me and get it over with it. I'm used to it."

She got up from her chair and came around to face him, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Why would you assume I'm disappointed in you? I said I was surprised, not disappointed. It's not my job to judge you, just to discuss situations and choices with you. Everything that happens in our lives is the result of a series of choices."

"Really not overwhelmed by my choices right now," he grumbled under his breath.

"Aren't you? We live in a world that is created by the choices we make every day. Do you tell Blair now? Later? Never? It's up to you. Unless…."

"Unless?" He couldn't help asking the question.

"Well, from what you've told me of her, she sounds like a very intelligent and resourceful young lady. What happens if she finds out on her own? If she already knows?" If Blair had somehow learned Chuck's identity, it would explain a lot about Allison's behavior this week. In fact, the more Jessica thought about it, the more she was certain this must be the case.

"I don't think she knows. I've been very careful. Besides-," he stopped, abruptly silencing himself.

"Besides….?"

"If she knew, I think she would've said something Monday evening."

"Why Monday evening?" Those clear blue eyes were burning a hole in him.

He didn't want to respond, but she kept looking at him intently and before he knew it, his mouth had opened and the words came tumbling out. "Because I wrote a piece of music for her and played it during our phone conversation that night."

Only Chuck Bass could make being creative and romantic sound like a shameful secret.

"Chuck, that's lovely. What a beautiful gift. How did she react?"

"She was surprised…and pleased, I think."

"See, that's a positive response to you letting her in and sharing something with her."

"If only I had the courage to do that with my father."

Was he changing the subject? Okay, she would bite. "What's going on with your father?"

"I'm sure you know a big part of Bass Industries is hospitality management." At her nod, he continued, "I have a business proposal for him. Something different and unique. There's a niche for it, I believe."

"What is it?" Jessica could speak both French and Freud, but she'd need some translating for this one.

"A burlesque club. A throwback to another era. Not an ordinary bar, but an escape…with music and dancers and cocktails."

Was he really only sixteen? Surely he'd been born thirty. "I don't know anything about the hospitality industry, but I'd say it sounds promising. What has your father said?"

"Nothing, because I haven't pitched it to him yet. I've been preparing, because he's my toughest critic. I've found a good location that's available for a reasonable price and I've drawn up the business plan."

"All very good steps in the right direction," she pointed out. "Have you told Blair about it? I mean, as yourself?"

"No, but maybe I should." She could tell he was tempted and turning the idea over in his head.

"Let her get to know another side of you, a side that's not anonymous," she suggested.

* * *

So naturally he invited Blair to a masquerade ball.

* * *

It was there waiting the next morning in her locker. A small wrapped parcel and a note.

She opened the parcel first. It was a leather-bound copy of _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ by Choderlos de Laclos. She had read the book in the original French, even owned a copy. What could be better than Eighteenth Century scheming at its best?

She opened the note to find out.

 _Your orders are charming; your manner of giving them still more delightful; you would make tyranny itself adored. ~Dangerous Liaisons. Risk the danger and meet me at the masquerade ball._

Her lips curved into a secret smile as a flood of emotions rushed through her veins.

Anticipation.

Excitement.

Curiosity.

Butterflies.

She was oh so ready to explore this thing between them, and maybe—just maybe—she could convince him to take off his mask for her.

* * *

And so Blair undertook a campaign to show Chuck exactly what he was missing by maintaining his anonymity.

Her skirts got shorter…and tighter. She even orchestrated a Marilyn Monroe-style wardrobe malfunction that offered the student body, and one male body in particular, a glimpse of stockinged and gartered thigh.

She wore her hair up, with just a few loose tendrils artfully arranged to best showcase the porcelain column of her neck.

She took pains to apply and re-apply her lipstick when she knew he could see her. And her eyes never left his as she rubbed her lips together to ensure the color was evenly applied. It was like she was blowing him a secret kiss.

She ate her yogurt lunch on the Met steps, savoring every bite and not so surreptitiously licking the creamy concoction off her lips and spoon.

At Cotillion class, she happened to accidentally brush him several times and she didn't seem to mind when he held her close during their dance…

And when he leaned over and whispered in her ear-"I have something I want to show you. Come with me after class?"-she nodded and her heart sped up to double time.

This was it.

He was going to tell her now.

He wasn't going to wait for the masquerade ball.

The butterflies swarmed again.

So she was rather surprised to find herself in the back of his limo, heading out of the UES. They were both a little tongue-tied during the drive, truth be told. Eventually, the car pulled up outside a building on Chrystie Street on the Lower East Side.

He led her inside.

She looked around, taking everything in. "What is this place?"

He took a deep breath. "Hopefully, my first business partnership with my father. I wanted your opinion, as you are my second toughest critic…after the man himself."

Two scantily-clad dancers strolled by in ornate costumes, laughing and chatting.

Whatever Blair had been expecting, it was not this. Her nose wrinkled as she turned, trying to grasp the 360-degree feel of the place. "You want your father to invest in a strip joint? How Midtown!"

"A burlesque club," he corrected. "A place where people can be transported to another time. No judgments. Pure escape. What happens at Victrola stays at Victrola."

She sniffed, trying to remain unaffected by the sexy purr of his words against her ear and the images they were invoking. "Well, it does have franchise potential," she observed.

As words of support went, they were not the strongest. But Chuck Bass had just spent the last several weeks of his life studying the endless enigma that was Blair Waldorf, and he could tell the idea was growing on her.

"It's just the sort of innovative thinking the Bass empire was founded on."

She nodded. Bart Bass might be a terrible parent, but he knew business. He could think outside the box—heck, he probably even owned the box. But he hadn't always; Bart Bass was a self-made man who had gotten where he was by making shrewd decisions and taking calculated risks. This was not the Gilt bar at the Palace; neither was it the 'strip joint' Blair had alluded to earlier. It was something altogether different. A unique club experience. It was a brilliant idea, she had to admit.

"Well, well, it seems your years of underage drinking and womanizing are finally paying off," The words were harsh, but her tone and smile softened them into the praise they were designed to be.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and laughed. He took some papers out of an attache case and handed them to her. "Do you think he'll like it?"

She took the file and leafed through it. Chuck's business plan was meticulously crafted and well considered. He'd obviously put a great deal of work into it. "I think he'll love it. When are you pitching the idea?"

"Tonight. Wish me luck."

"Always!" She looked down at her watch. "I'm going to be late for an appointment. Can you give me a lift home?"

"I'll have Arthur take you back. I need to wait for my dad."

"Then I'd better go. Unless…," she paused, "you have something else to tell me?" It wasn't the smoothest of segues, but she couldn't help for pushing for just a little more. He'd shown her his plans, his goals—why couldn't he show her himself?

"I…um…," he fumbled for a second, only to save himself, "If-if he agrees to my plan, I'll be throwing a party here. I hope you can come."

"I wouldn't miss it." She tried to sound chipper, she did, but she couldn't quite overcome a pang of disappointment. She'd been so sure, so very sure, that she'd finally persuaded him.

Oh, well, there was still the masquerade ball coming up in two days. In fact, the appointment she needed to go to was a final fitting for her costume. Their dangerous liaison awaited.

He would have to tell her then, right?

* * *

" _Someday…when I'm awfully low…when the world is cold…I will feel a glow…."_

Sinatra played on the speakers and the masked dancers whirled around the parquet ballroom floor. Blair Waldorf tried to keep her attention on her dance partner, though she didn't know who he was and, in all honesty, didn't care. She was too busy wondering about Chuck Bass.

Where was he?

Suddenly, her partner turned to the side and another costumed gentleman took his place.

At last.

Chuck Bass was dressed in the height of French rococo fashion. A rather stark black ensemble with a silver striped waistcoat contrasted with a snowy white linen shirt, cravat, stockings and wig. A dark mask covered his face from eyebrow to mid-cheek. It was tied on to prevent any accidental slips. His identity was perfectly concealed, as it needed to be. They were not alone in some dark planetarium; they were surrounded by a crush of carousing socialites in low lighting.

He bowed to her.

She curtsied back.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, I presume?" she said with a smile. "I was beginning to think you would need clues to find me."

He took her in his arms and they began to move with the music.

" _Just thinking of you…and the way you look tonight…"_

"You look ravishing," he whispered in her ear. "I don't need clues to find you."

She couldn't help the shiver that went through her at his words. "Or to ravish me, I'm sure."

He tried to ignore her saucy comment. He was, after all, trying to be a gentleman. And she had not been making it easy this week.

"Did you have any trouble finding me?"

He was late, he knew. But he could hardly tell her it was because he had to be sure his costume fully disguised his identity.

"Of course not. I was merely fashionably late. Then I simply looked for the hottest girl here. You do not disappoint." He gestured at her snug bodice of her gown, revealing an expanse of creamy décolletage and thrusting up her bosom to ensure said décolletage was set off to its best advantage. At her waist, it flared out into wide, panniered skirts of midnight lace with a stole to match around her shoulders. Her hair was not wigged or powdered, simply swept up into a tall, ornate style with jet combs and feathers. Even if he'd had to actually go back in time to the late Eighteenth Century, the sight of her was worth the trip.

"Now, I'm not going to deny I was aware of your beauty," he whispered again, his time quoting _Les Liaisons Dangereuses._ "But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realize that beauty was the least of your qualities."

She laughed. "I do hope you're not going to follow that up with the next line from the book, about how it's my goodness that is the true appeal."

"Of course not. Your true appeal is that you are the best of all things light," he ran a hand down the length of her neck and across one shoulder, "and dark." He threaded his fingers through one curly tendril that had escaped her updo. "In all senses of the word."

The music stopped and he suddenly realized what a precarious position he was in: anyone might recognize him here on the dance floor, even Blair. Or someone might take a photo and send it to Gossip Girl. He needed to find somewhere more private for them to continue the evening.

"Come with me," he took her hand and led her through the crowd. When they passed a waiter with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, Chuck paused and took the tray right out of his hands. "I'll take that, thank you." He was depending on the authority of his tone and the faux accent he was adopting to smooth the way, and it did. Balancing the tray on one hand, he kept his other hand wrapped securely around Blair's.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere not so crowded," he cryptically replied as they entered the stairwell.

He wanted to be alone with her. He was going to tell her. Her pulse was thundering and she felt a bit lightheaded.

And it wasn't her tightly laced corset.

It wasn't the thrill of the forbidden.

It wasn't the allure of a clandestine admirer.

It was all him.

When he finally said the words, revealed himself, she would know for certain. She would know that this thing between them was real.

Oh, would this flight of stairs never end?

Finally, they were at the top and he opened the door to the roof.

The rooftop was dim, with only a few security lights to dispel the darkness. Still, the beams looked more like fairy lights in a magical world where they were finally gloriously alone together. Their elaborate period costumes and masks only added to the ambience.

He maintained a close watch on the tray in one hand, while his other hand was at the small of Blair's back, fingers splayed to support her. It almost hurt to let go so that he could set down the champagne, but he did, pouring a small amount of the golden sparkling wine into the crystal flutes and handing her one.

"What shall we toast?"

"How about…," she paused to consider for a moment, putting her mask aside, "new discoveries and shared secrets?"

His eyes flashed up to hers and held, searching for a clue what she meant. Could she know?

She simply smiled back at him and returned his gaze.

Suddenly, even with the darkness and the disguise, he did not feel at all safe…and that was okay.

The rims of their glasses clinked together and they took a sip, still gazing at each other.

"I'm sorry it's not your favorite Dom Perignon."

"Didn't you know? I'm here for the company, not the wine cellar."

They both put their flutes down.

"Dance with me?" He stood up and pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

Around and around, they twirled around the deserted rooftop.

They danced.

They talked.

They laughed.

And the night flew by.

" _Love was a just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away…"_

"You know, the Sinatra has been wonderful, but not as wonderful as what you wrote for me." She smiled at him then, blindingly bright, and like a moth drawn to dance with the flame, he could not resist her brilliance.

There was a lull in the music, but he didn't end their dance. He simply pulled her even closer and began to hum his composition in her ear.

He was close, so very close, to that silky column of neck and he so badly wanted to place his lips against the shell of her ear and plant tiny, feather-light kisses all the way down to the top of her shoulder.

And he couldn't.

And it was killing him.

A shiver of bliss went through her whole body as the vibration of the sound went through her ears. He was close, so very close that his lips were almost touching her skin.

But they weren't.

And it was killing her.

They stopped dancing.

"Don't you want to kiss me?" Those beautifully shaded lips were mere millimeters from his. She was standing so close he could feel the warmth of her breath in the air.

"Define kiss." He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed each fingertip, ending with a lingering kiss on her palm.

Her breath hitched. And so did his.

"Your lips…on mine," she whispered.

"I want that…more than anything." He didn't even realize he'd spoken in his own voice. "But not until…."

Bells began to ring downstairs, signaling that midnight had arrived and the unmasking was about to begin.

She stepped away and looked up at him with expectant eyes.

And he knew what she wanted, what she needed from him.

And he wanted it too. He wanted to tear the mask from his face and stand in front of her as himself, with no disguises or barriers between them.

But it had been such a perfect night…

And they had been so happy…

Did he really want that smile to fade into an "oh" of shock and horror? For the warmth in her eyes to change to cold rejection?

He froze.

"Aren't you going to take off your mask?"

How could he refuse her request?

Yet he did.

Time slowed to a crawl. It felt like a dream…or a nightmare.

"I see." The disappointment was evident in her voice. "I suppose you will say that it's 'beyond your control'," she said archly, quoting the film.

He couldn't say anything at all.

Her lips twisted into a cynical expression. "You do realize that I am standing right here. I have only to reach up…," she brought her hands to his face, to his mask, "and remove the mask and look at your face."

"Why don't you?" Was he asking her or himself?

Her fingers worked their way under his mask, tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones, stroking the planes of his face, cupping his jaw.

In that moment, he felt that she saw him, that she saw everything. He let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

"I could peel away your disguise and it would just be us here, you and me."

His fingers sought and intertwined with hers.

"You know why I don't?" she paused, "Because I want you to tell me, to tell me this is real."

"But you know it is," he argued. "The only thing that's ever been real is you and me." He squeezed her fingers to make her believe it. "You feel it, don't you? Here," he touched the waves of her hair, "and here," he placed his hand on her stomach, "and here." His hand moved up to rest over her heart and she could feel the warmth of his fingers go straight through her bare skin to her heart.

Oh, yes, she definitely felt it. She could only nod.

"Then please give me a just a little more time. Goodnight, Blair," he said softly, before walking away.

Blair stood there, frozen, listening to the echo of his footsteps on the staircase.

"Goodnight…Chuck," she whispered under her breath.

* * *

There was no goodnight call that night, and no messages the following morning.

She was beginning to wonder if she had pushed too hard, though in retrospect, she knew if she had it to do over again, she would do everything exactly the same.

When she got to school, there it was, on the shelf of her locker: a single white rose with petals tipped with deep red.

A blush rose, it was called.

Eyes darting from the left to right, she determined she was relatively alone and ripped open the envelope.

 _There's no room for secrets between us, nor should there be. I am ready to peel off the mask. And kiss those perfect lips of yours. I will come over tonight at 8. Until then I remain…your Secret Admirer._

She was stunned.

She was thrilled.

She was ready to go to the school nurse. Was there a special treatment for a bad case of butterflies?

To Be Continued in Chapter 9

* * *

Author's Note: I know what you are thinking: "This is not the next chapter of _The Gilded Cage_ that you said you were going to write."

I tried to write that. I really did. But Secretverse Chair wouldn't leave me alone. One morning I woke up with a cramp in my leg and the whole first paragraph sprang into my head. Then I just gave up and went with it. They are wily adversaries that it is best not to fight. I mean, if even a leg cramp won't shut them up….

A special thanks to Almaloney33, who suggested _Dangerous Liaisons_ as a costume theme for Chuck. I needed something stylish with a wig to cover his hair, and I had already used Casanova in TGC. Her suggestion gave me plenty of ideas. DL has lots of darkness and scheming. It inspired two great films I'd recommend: _Valmont_ with Colin Firth, Annette Bening and Meg Tilly; and _Dangerous Liaisons_ with John Malkovich, Glenn Close and Michelle Pfeiffer.

I borrow a bunch of dialogue from the Victrola episode of _Gossip Girl_. But I used it gently and returned it right after.

The Sinatra song lyrics are from "The Way You Look Tonight" and "Strangers in the Night." There's a great Chair video to SITN on YouTube that was made by Purple Bowties for Limoversary. It's a must-see!

Special thanks to Chrys1130 and to ChairShip, who really rose to the occasion, despite getting an email that basically said, "Hey, I know it's Memorial Day weekend, but I just finished chapter 8 and here it is!"

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Guest reviewers, you rock, even though we don't get to personally respond and tell you so. To the guest who expressed concern that I might do "what most other authors would do," I hope my choices are original and add to the story. That is my intent, at least.

Hope you are all enjoying this first weekend of the summer season. I look forward to hearing from you.

XOXO


	9. Chapter 9

_Last time in the Secretverse: Blair tried in vain to get Chuck to confess that he was her admirer. Even their romantic rooftop masquerade date wouldn't budge him. The next morning he left her a note at school saying he was coming over that evening to reveal all and claim his kiss. Tonight's the night!_

Chapter 9

" _It had to be you…It had to be you…."_

It was crazy to be nervous, he told himself. Of course it was. He'd been over to the Waldorf penthouse countless times in the years since he'd known Blair.

But never to reveal that he'd been acting as her secret admirer for weeks.

Never with a rose in hand, its petals deepening from creamy white to vivid red like it had been kissed with color and passion.

Like he would kiss her tonight.

Provided she didn't scream, cry, run or throw him out on his ear.

It was impossible to say what might happen. Even as long as he'd known her, as well as he knew her, she always managed to surprise him.

Oh, she wanted this reveal—and he did too, to be honest—but who can say how they will react to news they have not yet been given?

It was time to place his bet, to go all in. It was sure to be explosive, but when the dust settled, he would have either lost two good friends and something he didn't quite dare name…or…he would have her. Either way, it would be a life-changing experience for him.

A change prompted by their date at the masquerade ball the night before.

" _Don't you want to kiss me?"_

Oh, she had no idea how very much he wanted those lips on his. But not until she knew it was him. She'd said she wanted to know if it was real. For him, it was the only thing that had ever been. But once in full possession of the facts, how would she feel?

Was it real or only a dream?

Either way, it was time to wake up and find out.

* * *

The drive seemed endless. In reality, it was only 2.7 miles from the Palace to Blair's building, a drive that typically took 14-19 minutes. Tonight, it seemed to be taking much longer, and no, he didn't want to closely analyze why he knew just how far away she was. Part of him wanted to rush the moment and another part wanted to stall, to give himself time to prepare.

But let's be honest: if he were to wait another day, another week, a hundred years…he still wouldn't feel fully prepared for Blair Waldorf.

So he had the rose in his hand and a jumble of thoughts in his head and not much else in the way of a plan.

Anyone who knew Chuck Bass could tell you his wits were sharp and his tongue even sharper. He might not be considered a great athlete, but his speed in thinking on his feet was the envy of many of his peers. Entering a verbal sparring match with him was ill-advised at best, suicidal at worst.

And now the legend in question had absolutely no idea what he was going to say once he arrived. Announcing his arrival through the doorman seemed anticlimactic. Was he just supposed to spring out of the elevator and yell, "Tah-dah!"?

Should he go for serious: "Blair, we need to talk…."

Or possibly lighter in tone: "Funny about that secret admirer thing….you see, I'm the secret."

How could he actually put into words the horror he'd felt at discovering her eating disorder, the need he felt to help her. Then it somehow became more than that. Now he had all these feelings he didn't know how to define or explain to himself, much less her.

The lyrics coming through the speaker broke into his reverie because they so perfectly articulated his thoughts:

" _And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am…"_

He'd shown her parts of himself that no one had ever seen or suspected the existence of, now he just wanted a real chance with her, with no secrets between them.

He cursed himself for being a coward last night at the masquerade ball. They'd been so close, literally and figuratively. She'd been standing right there, touching his face under the mask. Would it have been so hard to just tug the thing off and end the secret once and for all? But that was what he feared: that the end of the secret would be the end of his relationship with Blair. And the thought of that was unbearable.

But the thought of continuing to keep his secret, to hide his identity from Blair was also untenable.

Now he was ready to let go and take that leap.

Was she?

* * *

It was a few minutes before 8 when the elevator car came to a stop at the Waldorf penthouse. What could he say? He'd never really been the patient type.

As he stepped out of the elevator, he could hear her voice. His heart rate accelerated and the swarm of butterflies in his stomach all seemed to soar at the same time.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the scene before his eyes froze both his voice and his body.

"Yes! Of course, yes!" He could hear the smile in her voice first, then see it as she wrapped her arms around the young man standing in her living room, enfolding him in an enthusiastic embrace.

The young man in question was his best friend.

Chuck couldn't move, couldn't speak. He could only feel. Oh, how he could feel. He was overwhelmed by the emotions that came coursing through his veins at the same time.

Shock.

Denial.

Devastation.

Rage.

At Nate. At Blair. At himself.

One side of his mind bitterly rejected the whole scene while the other stubbornly refused to stop screaming, "She's MINE!"

And she might have been…had he not hesitated so long and lost his chance, lost her.

The intensity of all these emotions at once made him feel almost seasick. Oh, dear God, he might literally be sick right here in front of them.

They turned and saw him then, and blessedly adrenaline and a sense of self-preservation took over. His fingers closed around the rose, crushing it and feeling the broken petals begin to separate. Quickly, he wadded up the stem and thrust it into his suit pocket, barely noticing that an overlooked thorn had pricked his palm and a drop of blood was welling up. It was nothing compared to the gaping wound he felt in his chest. Years of experience allowed him to arrange his face in a cool, bored expression. After all, before Blair, he'd looked like that all the time.

"Hey, man," Nate broke out in a grin. "What brings you here?"

Blair was looking at him with great curiosity as well, the smile fading from her face.

Now he really needed to think on his feet, as it would be frowned upon to say, "I want Blair. I need her. I admire her, and I don't want it to be a secret anymore."

So he didn't say that. Instead, he forced his lips into a brittle smile. "I came to invite you to a party tomorrow night. Both of you."

"But how did you know I'd be here?" For one who was typically distracted and in his own world, Nate seemed particularly curious tonight.

"Yes, Chuck," Blair broke in, an identical searching look on her face, "how did you know that?"

"Read it on Gossip Girl," Chuck responded without missing a beat. "Didn't you see the blast?"

The pair shook their heads. Of course, it would've been a little difficult to see something which didn't exist…yet. Chuck made a mental note to text a tip the second he got out of here.

"And I'm just in time for the happy reunion," Chuck tried to sound happy for his friends, but the words seemed to be sticking in his throat, almost refusing to leave his tongue.

Nate and Blair were still standing uncomfortably close to each other—well, it was making Chuck uncomfortable anyway.

Nate beamed; Blair looked confused. Which was the direct opposite of the reactions he'd been expecting.

"It's-," Blair began to speak, only to be cut off by Chuck.

He could not do it; he could not stand there and look at her beautiful face, listen to her voice describing her dream come true. "Well, I'd better head out. I need to make sure the club is ready for tomorrow night."

"The club? It's at _your_ club? Bart said yes?!" Blair was excited and proud. She beamed at him.

He smiled back before he could stop himself. "Yes, he really liked the plans and he's giving me a year to make it work."

"Oh, you will, I know. It's going to be wonderful!"

Nate looked from his best friend to his ex. They were both still smiling and talking in some code he apparently didn't understand. "There's a club? How did I miss that? I know I've been busy lately with lacrosse…and family drama…but that's great news. What else have I missed?"

Chuck's eyes flashed back to Blair's for the merest second. "Nothing you need to worry about. Enjoy your evening.

He began to walk back toward the elevator.

Blair followed in a rush. "Chuck, wait!"

He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes searching her face. "Yes?"

She fumbled. This was unbearably awkward. "I—I just wanted to say congratulations on your club and your partnership with your father."

He stepped into the elevator and then turned around. "Thank you. It's been quite a day."

They stood there for a few seconds, just staring at each other, before the elevator doors automatically began to come together.

She was disappearing from his view, from his life, and his eyes tried in vain to drink her in, to commit everything about the way she looked tonight to memory.

Strappy red heels.

Fine silk stockings that were so sheer it almost looked like her legs were bare, but he knew better.

The as-yet-unseen red dress she'd been saving for a special occasion.

The dark waves of hair piled high and showing off her neck and shoulders.

Her eyes, dark as midnight and loaded with as much promise.

Last of all were her lips. They stood out in sharp relief against the pale oval of her face. Of course she was wearing the lipstick he'd chosen for her. And it was perfect.

She parted her lips as if to say something…

The doors merged then, silently sealing his fate.

As if on autopilot, he pushed the button for the lobby and then quickly texted the tip to Gossip Girl that Nate was at Blair's and the Golden Couple were possibly reunited. Then he took a deep breath. It was done.

Maybe now he could stop feeling this mish-mash of emotions.

Because it was wrong—all of it. His original intention had been to help Blair, to encourage Blair to get help. And he'd succeeded. She was doing so well. He reminded himself that there was no way he could've known that once he began watching her that he wouldn't be able to stop, that he'd fall for her himself. Now the baddest bad boy of them all was writing notes, leaving gifts, composing music, seeing a therapist and going on incognito dates. How had this happened? What had she done to him?

Nothing in his life was left untouched by her. He was jealous of Nate, his best friend—one of his only friends. Nate, who had never been anything but good to him. Now he was ready to throw his friend under the bus for one chance to hold Blair's hand, to kiss her lips. He hadn't even stopped to think about his friendship with Nate before going over there this evening. What kind of friend was he?

Before all this, he'd been so sure who he was; now he felt like he knew nothing.

He called Arthur to pick him up and as he stood outside the doors waiting for his ride, he pulled the cashmere scarf she'd given him out from under his coat and wrapped it around his neck to keep out the chill. He'd wanted to show it to her, to tell her what a perfect choice it had been, but that didn't matter now.

"Victrola," he instructed Arthur when the limo pulled up to the curb. His second phone trilled. The Blair Hotline, as he liked to think of it. He didn't even look at the screen, just pushed the "ignore" button and then shut off the phone. He did the same with his main phone as well. There was no one he wanted to talk to tonight.

This had to stop, he thought, this agony of replaying everything with Blair and hoping for another outcome that was not going to happen. Let's face it, he might be Chuck Bass, but two miracles in one day were just too much to hope for.

He still couldn't believe his father had greenlit his plan for the club.

Especially given his demeanor when he'd arrived for the meeting the other day….

* * *

As usual, Bart Bass had borne more than a passing resemblance to a great white shark. Cold blooded, keen-eyed, carefully navigating his way in search of prey. He appeared to be unimpressed by the club's exterior and location.

Chuck might have been nervous, had he not already experienced the exact same reaction from Blair earlier in the day.

"I know it doesn't look like much outside, but many of the best clubs don't. One shouldn't look like one is trying too hard," he reminded his father. "Just come inside and see."

"I don't need to see the interior of a gay bar to know it's not right as an investment for my company." Clearly Bart had already made up his mind.

"A gay bar?" Chuck was confused now. "That's not what this is at all." He opened the door and his father reluctantly walked in as Chuck explained the concept of Victrola.

Several dancers greeted him with little waves and smiles as he and his father came in and sat down at a table.

"Ladies," he nodded and returned the smile, then he signaled for someone to start the music.

By the end of the first number, Bart Bass had changed his mind. The concept was fresh and innovative; it was an entertainment experience that people would talk about afterwards. Chuck's business plan, spread out on the table in front of them, was also remarkably well researched and high in quality, especially for the boy's first time out. Most of all, it meant his son would be spending time with very attractive, very scantily-clad females. There was hope for those future Bass grandchildren yet! Bart would've approved the project for that reason alone.

Still, it wouldn't do to show his hand too soon. He'd let Chuck wait a bit, get a little nervous.

And so it was that on the same day he lost Blair Waldorf, Chuck Bass also got his very first business partnership with his father.

* * *

He was at the bottom of his second scotch when the shadow appeared next to him.

"Is this seat taken?" She didn't wait for an answer; she just slid past him and sat down on the old-fashioned sofa.

"Blair?" Was he dreaming? What was she doing here? The club wasn't even open tonight. Sure, there were dancers rehearsing and servers checking stock at the bar, but otherwise, the place was deserted.

One of the barhands came over with an uncorked bottle of champagne and a glass for Blair.

"I thought I'd find you here." She filled a flute with some of the golden, sparkly beverage.

"Why are you here?" He sounded bemused.

"Escape," she didn't even hesitate for a second. "That's what this place is for, right?" She raised her glass to him and downed the contents, only to refill it again.

"But Nate…?"

"Don't tell me you believe everything you read on Gossip Girl? I honestly don't know where she's getting her tips these days, but that one was completely off base."

"But I was there! You were hugging him and saying, "Of course it's yes!" He did a rather terrible impression of her that was so bad it made her grin.

"I was, but he had just asked me to get back together. I said no—politely, of course. Then he asked if we could still be friends. I've missed him as my friend, so I said yes, which is when you walked in."

"Why?" It came out as a demand.

"Why did he ask? I suspect because he's a little overwhelmed right now. There's a lot going on with his family and he has still no idea what to do about Serena." She rolled her eyes. "I'm comfortable and familiar."

"Why did you say no?"

"Bass, you know me; do I look 'comfortable' and 'familiar' to you? Nate and I have been over for a long time, even before we broke up. Besides," she confessed, "I was actually waiting for someone else tonight. Someone I've been waiting for a long time."

"I see."

"Do you? I wish he did. Apparently he saw the Gossip Girl blast, because he never showed." Blair was indignant. "Unless…do you think he lost interest?"

"I don't see how any guy could ever lose interest in you." It was nothing but the truth.

"I tried to call him, but he wouldn't pick up."

"I'm sure he was disappointed by the blast. Maybe he's off somewhere, licking his wounds."

"But wouldn't it be more fun if I did that for him?" she asked in a coquettish voice.

He coughed and tried not to swallow his own tongue.

"We're young," she pointed out, "We're supposed to live, to dance." She gestured toward the dancers on the stage. "I could do that, you know. I have moves." She took another sip of champagne.

"Do you?" His cynical tone was accentuated by the raised eyebrow. He was distracted by her claim and it was easy to fall into the kind of rapport and repartee they'd always had. "Let's see."

"Are you challenging me, Bass?" Her eyebrow rose in response.

"Let's call it a dare. Do you like dares, Waldorf?" He knew perfectly well that she did.

"Making or taking?" Oh, yes, she could play this game too.

"Either. Of course, maybe that was just the champagne talking earlier…."

"Hardly. You don't think I'll do it? Don't you know I always take the dare?" She stood up then and moved toward the stage.

"Ladies, may I join you?" she asked the dancers, who merely smiled and made room for her on the stage. When she began to move, they stepped back and gave her center stage.

Being under the bright lights and surrounded by professional dancers might have made another girl nervous, but that girl wasn't Blair Waldorf. Blair was instead focused on the stunned expression on Chuck's face.

He sat there transfixed as she began to move in time with the music. Then she half-turned and her hands came up to the side zipper on the little red dress.

With a tug of her fingers, the tab on the zipper dropped down a couple inches…then a couple more…and more still. Then the dress floated down her body like falling petals from a rose. The garment landed in a pile at her feet and she stepped out of it to return to her dance.

As much as Chuck admired that little red dress, it was nothing compared to how he felt about the red satin slip underneath it. The rich color shimmered under the lights as the sleek fabric moved along with her as she danced.

She was facing away from him now, allowing him to appreciate the way the slip hugged the rounded curves of her derriere. Feminine fingers came down and traced the seam on the back of her stockings, starting at her ankles and then moving up shapely calves and supple thighs, until they disappeared under the hem of her slip.

Chuck was suddenly very, very thirsty. He drained the rest of his scotch and then moved onto Blair's abandoned champagne flute.

She raised her arms above her head, one arm sensually sliding back down and across the top of her shoulders. Then she wiggled her fingers in a sassy little wave that beckoned him, echoing the 'come hither' look in her eyes.

Oh, he was ready to follow her. Anywhere. He rose to his feet and raised his glass in a silent salute.

She beamed at him, their eyes never straying from each other as she finished the dance and then took a little bow. It had been a performance that would've done even The Striplets proud.

He set down the glass and gave her a standing ovation. The other dancers shouted their praise and clapped as well. She felt heady and powerful and ready to take on the world as she returned to her seat.

They drank some more champagne and did some more talking, though afterwards neither could have recalled the topics covered. Instead, they both realized that something had shifted in their world.

The dreamy feeling lasted as they got into the limo.

"Thanks for the lift home." Blair was still in her red slip, her dress folded over her arm.

"You were…amazing up there." Had his voice ever sounded like that before?

She set her dress aside and slid across the expanse of leather seat until she was close, so close, to his face. Then she looked deep into his eyes. "More amazing than when I put on my lipstick by the pool?" she purred.

He blinked and then blanched. Even in the low light, she could see the color fade from his face. "You know," he concluded.

She nodded, not moving away from him.

This was it. They were hanging by a moment.

"I'm still waiting for that kiss, you know," she reminded him.

And that was all he needed to hear. The mask was off. It was just Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

Their lips met.

Touched.

Tasted.

Tempted.

It was beyond anything either could have ever imagined.

But Chuck had to know. "You sure?" he whispered.

"Are you?" she countered.

"Always." He said it with reverence and absolute certainty. If there was anything in this life he was sure of, this was it.

"Always," she echoed.

Then they were kissing again and nothing had ever felt quite like this.

It was more than two pairs of lips tasting and testing each other.

More than his tongue tracing the outline of that perfect pout, tasting the flavor of her lipstick, of her lips, of her mouth itself.

More than his tongue inviting hers out to play and then being shocked by how naturally it joined with his, curling around it.

More than their tongues dancing, dueling, finding a rhythm.

It was like coming home and exploring a new world all at the same time.

Her arms came around his shoulders and her fingers entwined behind his neck, drawing him even closer. She'd kissed Nate countless times over the years, but never once had it felt like this. She could feel it through her entire person—her blood was quickening, her whole body was on fire, and she wanted, needed him more than air.

If there were rumors that there was a sexual act that Chuck Bass had not tried, then those rumors were false. But he had never before kissed Blair Waldorf, and that perhaps was what made all the difference. What was this sense of awe, of magic? She was affecting the heart and soul even he had sometimes doubted he had. He could not get close enough to her, even after scooping her into his lap and allowing his hands to trace her curves at leisure. It was more than putting his hands on her body; it was special, sacred. Just like she was.

It seemed apropos that Sinatra was on the stereo.

 _Those fingers in my hair, that sly come-hither stare that strips my conscience bare, it's witchcraft. And I've got no defense for it. The heat is too intense for it. What good would common sense for it do?_

They paused for air, breathless and bemused, unable to be apart even for a second.

And Chuck and Blair stopped swinging in the wind. They let go of everything they'd been clinging to, and took the leap, reaching out for each other.

The kiss resumed, its magic unabated.

Tonight, in the near darkness with their eyes closed and their hearts open, they both felt it.

To Be Continued in Chapter 10

* * *

Author's Note: The song lyrics used in this chapter are from "It Had To Be You" and "Witchcraft," both sang by Frank Sinatra, and "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls.

This chapter is dedicated to Shrk22, for our inspiring Sinatra discussion; to Ancient Xana of the Old Forest, who knows my update schedule better than I do—only 8 days this time, X, how do you like me now?; and ChuckBlair08lover, who has recently returned to reading after a stressful but exciting move. Thank you all.

Special thanks (always!) to my beta angels: Chrys1130, Almaloney33 and ChairShip.

I have said before that this was the fic that took me by surprise. It was meant to be a one-shot for Chairversary and was originally intended to end with Blair discovering Chuck was her secret admirer and beginning a relationship with him. In that case, the story would be over now. But it's not. There are still some things I want to explore in the Secretverse. So I hope you'll keep reading and following the story.

Since Secretverse Chair has commandeered me for the last three chapters, I must now go back and face the wrath of Cageverse Chair, who have been getting restless lately. I fear they are scheming against me. I dare not neglect them much longer.

Thank you, dear readers, for your support and kind words. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter and I look forward to hearing from you.

XOXO


	10. Chapter 10

_Last time in the Secretvere: She knows! Now what?_

Chapter 10

There was music on the stereo in the limo and sounds of the city at night outside.

He didn't hear any of that.

There was the rich aroma of Italian leather and the scent of a recently laundered and pressed Turnbull & Asser linen shirt.

He didn't smell that either.

Millions of people around the world came to Manhattan every year to see the sights.

His eyes were happily closed.

In Chuck Bass' world at this moment, there was only Blair Waldorf.

His soundtrack was the little sounds she made when they paused for breath. Or, was he making those too? Who could tell over the pounding of his heart? Or was that hers?

He was surrounded by the smell of her Chanel no. 5 and the faint lingering taste of champagne on her lips. Champagne and the perfect lipstick he'd created just for her.

The texture of her red satin slip moving against the coarser fabric of his suit and the feel of her silky skin beneath his fingertips were intoxicating.

Right now, with her in his arms in the back of his limo, he was higher than he had ever been.

He hadn't known a kiss could feel like this. To be honest, he'd never really given much thought to kissing. It was a step on the way to better things, a means to an end. It was a prelude, the part before the good part.

But this was different. When their lips met, time stopped…and everything else began. Even having anticipated this moment for the last few weeks, the dream was still no match for the magical reality. The sense of awe caught him by surprise. Why that should be, he didn't know.

To him, there had always been two kinds of females: women in general and Blair. Tonight, he had tasted Blair Waldorf. Of course he would never be the same again.

When their lips stilled for a moment to take a breath, he seized the moment to blaze a trail of tiny kisses across her face, to trace the shell of her ear, to caress her earlobe with his tongue.

That sound…was she…purring in his ear?

The thought that she might be was driving him crazy.

His lips descended down the silky column of her throat, the kisses increasing in length and intensity as he grew closer to that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. And when he did get there and let his lips settle into that delicate hollow and sample the exquisitely sensitive skin there, her purrs and sighs gave way to a little cry.

Suddenly, his lips were back on hers, exploring and delighting in tracing the contours of her lower lip with his tongue.

Her lips parted and her tongue found his.

And then they were dueling, dancing, drinking each other in.

His fingers slid over her shoulders and down her arm, taking one of the feather-light straps with it. Without thinking, he pulled her onto his lap, stroking her arm…her back…that perfectly curved bottom.

Somehow she turned in his arms and then she was straddling his lap, their bodies fitting together perfectly, their kisses never ceasing.

He could not stop his hands from continuing to explore and worship her, squeezing her thighs in praise and possession.

He'd never wanted anything or anyone more. If it had been anyone else in his arms, he would have known exactly where this was heading.

And that was precisely why he had to stop.

This wasn't just anyone; it was Blair. In the last four hours, he'd gone from losing her to…this. It was all moving so fast.

Too fast.

He thought back to his own first time, and his memories were mercifully hazy. He remembered alcohol and a driving sense of eagerness to explore what the big deal was about sex. But after it was over, he'd only felt relief and a strong desire to escape. It hadn't helped that Georgina had gone borderline psycho on him.

Then he thought of all his other many trysts, fleeting moments of pleasure that left no impression and made him as lonely as before, if not more so.

That was not what he wanted for Blair. He had no doubt that their coupling would be amazing—after all, look what a kiss was like—but what if afterwards she was scared or sorry? What if she pulled away, retreated from him? He couldn't bear the thought.

This amazing, magical thing between them would be over before it had even fully begun. There was just too much at risk. Tonight, the miracle that she knew his identity and wanted to be with him would have to be enough.

He gritted his teeth as he reluctantly pulled away.

"Chuck, what's wrong?" Her doe eyes were enormous and hazy with desire and confusion.

"I just want to take this slow. Do it right. For you." He looked deeply into her eyes, willing her to understand.

She did not understand. "But-."

He took her hands in his and squeezed them. "Blair, it's your first time. I want it to be wonderful for you."

"But no one enjoys their first time. Everyone says that," she argued.

"Well, you aren't everyone. And why shouldn't you be the exception?" He cupped her face with his hands and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"But I thought you wanted me?" She shifted a bit in his arms and they could both feel how much he wanted her.

He exhaled a frustrated sigh and bit his bottom lip. "You know I do. I want you so much I can't even see straight. But I'm not going anywhere. Tomorrow morning, I will still be sneaking into your locker and leaving you a present, and counting down the minutes until I see you again."

She still looked doubtful. "But you're Chuck Bass. Before…."

"Shh," he placed a finger against her lips, as he slid her off his lap and onto the seat beside him. "With us there is no 'before.' And there are no longer any secrets between us. This thing…us…it's special. You know that, right?" He kissed every fingertip on her hand before taking it in his once more.

She nodded, silently squeezing his hand. She wanted so much to believe him, but she couldn't help the next words that came out of her mouth: "Are you sure?"

And he said nothing. He just kissed her reverently as the starlight streamed through the open roof of the limo.

It was the beginning of a beautiful more-than-friendship.

* * *

Blair started off the day in the best of moods. She awoke happily with a smile on her face, got ready while humming the music he had written for her and actually arrived at school slightly earlier than her usual time.

All because she couldn't wait to see him again.

Despite the false start, it had been the best night of her life. And all they had done was kiss and hold hands. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about his insistence on taking things slow. On one hand, it was old-fashioned and romantic…and she could admit to herself that maybe she was the teensiest bit nervous about going further.

On the other hand, if just kissing had felt that good….

And he was Chuck Bass. How long could he be content just holding hands with someone known as The Ice Queen? How long before he became bored and moved on? She couldn't stand to think about it.

 _He_ was the one to set the pace and he had said there was no 'before' with them.

Besides, she had a good feeling she could persuade him to change his mind.

She was still lost in her reverie when she rounded the corner and saw a male figure standing by her locker. Her heart sped up and she could not subdue the smile that suddenly appeared on her face. It would figure that now she knew his identity, she was catching her not-so-secret admirer red-handed.

Except the figure at her locker was not Chuck. The frame was too tall, the hair too light, the posture all wrong.

Her heart slowed and her face fell.

"Nate? What are you doing here?" She hoped she could keep the edge out of her voice. Once upon a time, the fact that he'd made a special effort to come see her would have thrilled her beyond reason, but now she'd rather have some time to herself to see if Chuck really had left something in her locker.

"Does a guy need a reason to come talk to a friend?" He gave her a sheepish look.

Blair sighed. Nate needed to stop trying so hard.

"And also because I wanted to see if you wanted to go to a Columbia lacrosse game with me this weekend." He seemed very proud of himself for coming up with this idea.

What on earth would make him think that?! Blair almost cringed, then remembered that a few weeks ago, in a somewhat failed attempt to prove that she was a good girlfriend and not in any way addicted to her secret admirer, Blair had gone to see Nate play…and she'd pretended to enjoy herself…apparently a little too convincingly.

A small crowd had begun to gather around the exes. Discreet texts were sent and phones chimed as Gossip Girl put out a blast about Golden Boy being back in Blair's good graces. The lady herself could guess what was going on around her and stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.

"This weekend? Oh, that's too bad," Blair did her best to sound sorry, "I already have plans. Maybe next time?" Like, you know, never, she wanted to add. She wanted to be his friend, truly, but the reality of him standing here now giving her puppy dog eyes felt strange and irritating.

There was a flurry of whispers and gasps from her court of minions. They were clearly in shock that finally Blair had Nate right where she wanted him…and she was just going to leave him there. Penelope, who would have gladly sold her soul for the same offer from Nate, was almost sick with envy and could not wipe the catty look off her face. Kati and Iz looked at each other in confusion, vainly trying to understand this brave new world they were living in. Only Hazel had the presence of mind to text another tip to Gossip Girl about this world-shattering event.

When Chuck Bass saw the blast, he was already on his way to Blair's locker. Like a villain who could not resist returning to the scene of the crime, he had to come see Blair's reaction to her first non-anonymous gift.

Oh, who was he kidding? He hadn't eaten or slept since yesterday evening and it felt like something was making odd movements in his abdomen. He was dying to see Blair again, to know that last night had been real…and stood a chance of being repeated.

He hadn't expected a crowd of agitated onlookers…or his best friend standing stymied in the hallway as Blair brushed past him to get into her locker, retrieve some items from within and then beat a hasty but cordial retreat.

She moved past Chuck as if he weren't even there, a smile on her face that did not extend to her eyes. He could smell her perfume and her fury as her heels clicked on the linoleum. She was close enough to touch, but he dare not, especially after she hissed in a tone meant only for his ears: "I hope you're happy, Bass. This is all your fault."

He wanted to grasp her arms, call her name, stop her from leaving.

The sound of her clicking heels grew fainter as she moved further away.

How had this happened? How had he gone from feeling gloriously alive, like she truly saw him, truly wanted him…to feeling even more invisible than he ever had as her secret admirer?

He had to fix this.

If he could just talk to her….

He spent the rest of his morning trying to do just that.

He had no luck finding her. She wasn't in any of her usual classes or haunts. He'd peeped in classroom windows, eavesdropped outside bathroom doors, and even gone so far as to crash a meeting of the Cotillion committee to see if she was there. Now it appeared he was expected to serve on the decorations subcommittee, an obligation he had every intention of dodging as soon as possible. Chuck Bass did not hang crepe streamers.

He had nearly decided that the search was in vain, that she was somehow no longer on campus, when inspiration struck. There was one place he had not yet checked.

The library.

Constance Billard and St. Jude's shared a library that was the envy of the other top Manhattan private schools, largely due to alumni donations and dedicated ongoing fundraising efforts by Headmistress Queller. She believed that knowledge was power and any who wandered in should be able to find what they were seeking.

But what Chuck was seeking could not be found in any book.

When he walked in, the student aides at the desk brightened immediately. They both smiled and one even waved at him. While it was unlikely that he was there to check out a book or check them out, hope sprang eternal.

He made his way through the quiet stacks, deserted now since class was in session. And just when he'd decided it was completely empty, he rounded a corner in the far reaches of the room and there she was, standing with a book open, scanning the page.

Success!

He stole up behind her, careful not to make a noise until he whispered in her ear, "Ah, here you are. I should have suspected. 'The natural desire of good men is knowledge'."

"Then what are you doing here?" she inquired dryly. Her words had bite, but he could tell by her sharp intake of breath and the rising color in her cheeks that she was not unaffected by his presence.

"Ah, that biting wit. Will I need a tetanus shot?" He was still behind her, one hand finding the hollow of her back, even through her blazer, and stroking its way up to her shoulder. "Besides, that's the natural desire of 'good' men; my natural desire is you."

His fingers were playfully winding through her curls, then lingering on the soft nape of her neck as he swept her hair aside and placed a feather-light kiss there.

And then he was lost. The scent of her hair and perfume of her skin were in his nostrils. The sound of her (almost) inaudible sigh was in his ears. The silk of her skin drew him in for yet another, deeper kiss.

It wasn't enough. He needed another hit. More kisses, each one deeper and longer than the one before, trailed down until he reached the little hollow at the base, where her neck joined her shoulder. It seemed just made for his tongue, and suddenly the urge was overwhelming.

Just

A

Taste…

It was the spark needed to ignite the blaze. The second she felt the warm velvet of his tongue touch her skin, everything changed. Suddenly, she was turning around to face him, and then they were leaning into each other…and settling against the bookcases behind them.

His arms tightened around her, as her fingers wound through the ends of his hair and pulled him even closer. Their lips gloried in each other, breathlessly exploring, until his tongue traced the contours of her mouth before parting her lips. And then her tongue was right there to meet his, to dance with it, to drink in the taste of him.

Finally, all his efforts of the morning had paid off. This was what he needed.

And then it was over.

"Chuck, you know we can't do this!" Her voice was breathy and quavering.

He knew no such thing. "Why?"

"Someone might see us!" she hissed, pausing to look around and ensure they were alone.

"It's just us here. You and me." He gestured to the empty stacks around them. "Besides, what do you care who sees? I thought we said no more secrets."

"Between us? Of course not. From Gossip Girl? Oh, most definitely. Since you sent that tip in about Nate and me possibly getting back together—and yes, I know that was you—Gossip Girl has us on some sort of CoupleWatch. It's impossible to get under her radar."

He looked sheepish for a moment. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I just thought you were taking him back and I was trying to give you a graceful exit from your secret admirer."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but stayed in his arms anyway.

"Lucky for us then that no one saw you last night on a certain stage in a certain silky slip…," his voice was a whisper in her ear. "Though it's almost a shame, because you were amazing up there."

Color rose in her cheeks and she looked down shyly for a moment. "I should still be angry with you about that tip."

"But you're not," he pointed out. "Take pity on me, Blair. Since last night, I haven't eaten, I haven't slept…and it feels like there's something in my stomach…fluttering."

"Butterflies," she nodded solemnly.

"You-?"

She nodded again.

"All the more reason we should take advantage of this time. I've been looking for you all morning. I even went to your Cotillion decorating committee meeting—and one of your minions tried to conscript me into volunteering." He shuddered and she laughed.

"And will you?"

"The only thing I'm signing up for is kissing you again. One more kiss before we have to go back?"

Could she say no to the warmth in his eyes? The warmth of his lips?

"Just one more," she agreed before melting into his arms again.

Of course, it would only count as one kiss if he didn't stop…

They missed lunch entirely.

* * *

He was waiting on the sidewalk when the limo he'd sent for her pulled up to the curb.

He casually chatted with acquaintances as he waited patiently (or with as much patience as he could muster) for her to appear.

Sky-high stilettos came first. Then toned calves gave way to voluptuous thighs showcased by the filmy gauze of her short black skirt. He knew firsthand just how silky those shapely legs were and he had to bite back a groan.

The top of the lacy dress appeared, cut low to show off subtle cleavage and porcelain shoulders. Really, covering up that skin with those uniform blazers was a crime against humanity and young men everywhere.

His eyes traced up that swan-like neck, bared by her upswept hairstyle, and caught her sparkling gaze before landing on lips painted with her now-signature color.

My God, she was exquisite. She took his breath away. He wanted to run to her, run away with her…but wisdom prevailed. She'd given him strict instructions on how he was to behave. Unfortunately, behaving well was not typically a concept associated with Chuck Bass.

Throwing an amazing party, on the other hand, certainly was, and the club was filled to overflowing, even spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Blair pretended to be looking around as if seeing everything for the first time. "Bass," she deigned to greet him, before resuming her perusal.

"Waldorf." He sounded casual too, as he nodded her way.

Convinced they were relatively free of close scrutiny, she allowed her lips to curve up into a little smile meant only for him and then she winked at him before walking into the club with Chuck following behind. What else was a gentleman to do?

They went their separate ways once they entered the club; she to hold court over her minions, he to perform his host duties.

Because it was ostensibly an underage event, no alcoholic beverages were being (legally) served and the stage was set up as the dance floor. There would be brief performances by the burlesque dancers throughout the evening to give a taste of what the shows would be like.

The deejay kept the music pumping, and before long, Blair and her minions were out on the floor, moving to the beat. She tried not to think about being here alone with Chuck and dancing on this very stage.

And then Chuck was talking to Kati and Iz, then dancing with Kati and Iz, followed by Hazel, then onto Penelope and then he was right there in front of her. As if by magic, the lights dimmed and the music switched to a slow song. He pulled her into his arms.

She had to quell that elation that rose up when his arms encircled her waist, and the shivers that went through her when he whispered, "We meet again" against her ear. He was smelling her perfume, or maybe just the nape of her neck, and she wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the winds and pull his lips to hers.

Damn those butterflies!

She had to regain some control here. It was scary how quickly he could make her lose it. "So we do, and not by accident, I think." She raised a brow at him.

"I may have mentioned to the deejay that a slow dance would be preferable when I'm near you." He was unapologetic about it.

"Chuck, people are going to talk," she reminded him.

"Won't they talk even more if I don't dance with the prettiest girl here?" he shrugged. "I mean, I do have a reputation to live up to here."

"You mean 'down to', don't you?" she tried to sound stern, but the smile came through in her voice. Stupid butterflies.

"Don't I get any credit for being a good boy? Here I am, not holding you nearly as close as I'd like," he squeezed her waist, "and I'm right here next to the neck that is my kryptonite and I'm not brushing that lock of hair away," he teasingly blew a puff of air on said curl, "or kissing my way down to your collar bone…."

He was so close to her neck that she feared that was going to happen next and she had absolutely no control over the way her heart sped up at the thought. "Unlike this afternoon…."

Her breath hitched at the memory.

"I've never enjoyed research more," he declared.

He was so enthralled by the little sigh she gave that he totally missed the insistent tapping on his shoulder.

"Nate, you're here!" Blair was startled, but no more so than Chuck. He immediately let go of her and moved a couple steps back.

"Hey, guys, I've been looking all over for you. This is a great party, Chuck. Quite the place you've got here."

"Thank you. I-," he was cut off by one of the employees approaching him with a question. "I'm sorry, I have to go take care of this. See you around later?" He was talking to them both, but his eyes were on Blair.

Nate smiled affably while Blair frowned.

Chuck clenched his jaw. This whole "we're together now, but we can't really be together" thing was killing him…and it had only been twenty-four hours. He made a mental note to get back to her as soon as possible, consequences be damned.

Except he couldn't really get back to her, because for the rest of the night there was always some guy by her side. She danced with Nate first, then a slew of other guys, including ones from other area schools.

She danced.

She laughed.

She flirted.

At one point she even tossed her hair.

On the rare occasions that their eyes met, she deliberately looked away from him.

And then he lost his temper.

From her special performance on this very stage the night before, to their magical ride home in the limo, to their literary rendezvous in the stacks this afternoon—it was all perfect. But now because of some stupid Gossip Girl blasts, she was ignoring him.

Well, two could play at that game.

He moved through the crowd, sizing up the pool of partygoers and looking for the just the right prey….

Found it! Twin redheads from Chapin were definitely giving him the eye. They were scantily clad and looked very…friendly. Just what he needed. He stopped to chat, and before long, he was sitting in a corner with Eva on one side and Ava on the other, competing for his attention.

This was more like it.

Let's see how Blair was liking this. When his fingers slid over to give Ava's knee a squeeze, he looked right at Blair across the dance floor.

Blair knew perfectly well what was going on and had already decided he'd get no reaction from her.

It worked in theory…

Until that knee squeeze.

How dare he?!

She saw green, then red. Before she knew what she was doing, she had disengaged from the lacrosse player who was telling a long and boring story about…oh, who cared, she hadn't even been listening…and was halfway across the room.

She grabbed Chuck's free hand and pulled him to his feet. "There's a problem you need to take care of." Chuck shrugged and gave a little wave to the twins as she dragged him off to the coat room in the lobby.

Once there, she pulled him in and closed the door behind them, shoving him into a rack of woolen coats that would hide their presence and conceal any noise. And then she kissed him, just the way she'd wanted to ever since they left the library that afternoon.

Finally, they came up for air and he could get in a word. "Hey."

He shouldn't sound that good, shouldn't look that good. He was a complete Basstard and she had every intention of telling him so. "Hi," came her breathy reply instead.

He placed a light kiss on her lips. "Is this the problem you were referring to?"

"Stop smiling! Why are you smiling?" she demanded.

"Because I think someone is jealous," he taunted.

"Don't be ridiculous! I was just rescuing you from Skank One and Skank Two. They're heinous and so are you. Twins, Chuck? Twins?!"

He grinned. "Do you really think that even twins are any match for you? I was just passing the time waiting for you."

"Passing the time, is it? I can think of better ways," she whispered, slightly mollified.

"Show me."

And she kissed him again. As far as Chuck was concerned, the evening had definitely taken a turn for the better, when a bartender stuck his head in the door.

"Chuck, your father is here looking for you."

Blair immediately stepped aside and followed Chuck out into the lobby.

"There you are, Charles. I was just checking in to see how things were going." Actually, Bart had hoped his presence would serve as a warning if his son was indeed serving alcohol or the party was getting out of hand. So far, the festivities seemed to be at a legal and acceptable level.

And then he saw it. Traces of red lipstick on his son's face. His son was wearing lipstick? He frowned.

Chuck seemed floored to see his father there, so Blair emerged from the shadows. "Mr. Bass, it's so lovely of you to come support Chuck at his first party here at the club. Everyone is having a wonderful time. It was a brilliant idea for Chuck to host a night just for people our age, but then I'm sure he gets his flair for business from you." Blair accompanied her shameless flattery with a seemingly sincere smile.

Bart Bass was not one for flattery, sincere or otherwise, but then he saw it.

The same red lipstick on _her_ lips.

And he smiled right back. This was even better than he could've dreamed. The Waldorfs were an old money connection he would dearly love to make. It had seemed more likely that honor would go to the Archibalds…but that lipstick told him the tide might be turning. He suddenly felt quite proud of his son.

Chuck seemed to find his voice then and briefed his father on various permits that had been approved and that the opening date would proceed as scheduled.

"Good, good." Bart was pleased, but couldn't stop himself from adding, "Just be sure you stay current with your school assignments."

"I'm sure he will," Blair piped up. "Just this afternoon, we were working on a research project in the library."

It was rather amusing to see Miss Waldorf acting as his son's self-appointed champion, but he rather suspected their visit to the library had more to do with her lipstick than a quest for literature. Bart decided to say nothing more. He shook his son's hand and nodded to Blair before taking his leave.

Watching Bart's departing form, Blair slid closer to Chuck, surreptitiously entwining their fingers. "He should travel with a mini-orchestra that plays Darth Vader's Imperial March whenever he arrives somewhere."

"That would certainly be truth in advertising," Chuck agreed.

They smiled at each other conspiratorially. They might only be together in secret right now, but they were together.

They were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck.

And nothing-not the risk of rumor, not even Big Bad Bart-could change that.

To Be Continued in Chapter 11

* * *

Author's Note: Now they're together, albeit in secret. What was Chuck's first non-anonymous gift to Blair? What will their therapists say about these developments? What's next for our favorite couple? These and other questions will be answered soon.

A special "thank you" to the lovely narsuess, who's responsible for the lines about Chuck dividing females into two categories and how he would never be the same after kissing Blair. She wrote them in a review and they were so perfect I just had to include them in the story. I thank her for her generosity in letting me do so and also for her loyal support.

Many thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. Summer is a busy time and that you take the time to share your feelings about my story means a great deal to me.

Much love and gratitude to my beta team: Chrys1130, chairship (check out her _Best Kiss_ story for a wonderful take on Chuck's first time), rayj829 (who's writing the compelling _New Beginnings_ ) and Shrk22 (who never fails to make me smile).

Until next time!

Xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck threw a party for their friends at Victrola, but as much as he and Blair want to celebrate their new relationship, it must remain a secret. For now. Shh!

"So you're together now?" Dr. Allison Maloney had been listening to Blair Waldorf recount the developments in the burgeoning relationship with her now-more-than-friend Chuck Bass for a half hour now.

"Yes," Blair nodded. "Well, mostly. It has to stay secret until Gossip Girl stops stalking me over Nate."

"How do you feel about that?"

"It's inconvenient. I mean, I don't want to have to hide it all the time," she paused before adding, "But it's also kind of…sexy. Something for just the two of us."

"You don't feel it's impacting your relationship?"

"No, our secret is from everyone else, not from each other."

"So you feel it makes you closer?"

She nodded and the corners of her mouth turned up.

Allison resisted the temptation to let her own mouth do the same. Still, she had to be thorough. "Before, you expressed some concern that – I'll use your words here – you might not be enough for Chuck. What did you mean by that?"

A shadow went across Blair's features. "He's Chuck Bass. He's had a lot of experience."

"Does that worry you?"

"Yes and no. I don't want to disappoint him. But he wants to take things slow." She sounded surprised by that, as if she were still trying to understand the concept.

"And what do you want?"

"I want us to be together…in every sense of the word."

Uh-oh. This was far more Jessica's area of expertise than her own. Seventeen was past the age of consent in New York, but Allison wanted Blair's decisions about such things to remain her own, untainted by interference. She was still pondering what to say next, when she realized Blair was speaking again.

"Chuck says that with us, there is no 'before.' Those are the rules: there is no before and we have no secrets from each other. I am trying to trust that. And I'm looking forward to changing his mind." Her smile was happy and just a little naughty.

Allison felt immeasurably relieved that, at the advanced age of sixteen, Chuck seemed to know exactly the right thing to say. She made a note on her to-do list to pick up some Veuve Clicquot for after dinner tonight. She and Jessica might not be able to discuss their clients, but they could certainly drink a toast to them and their new relationship.

* * *

Blair Waldorf made her way backstage at the auditorium shared by Constance Billard and St. Jude, rather single-mindedly searching for the drama department. They had just announced that very morning that auditions would be held for the school's annual 'Shakespeare in the Spring' performance and this year's play of choice was _The Taming of the Shrew_.

It was a lead role she was born to play.

Slipping through the red velvet curtains by the side of the stage, she let out a little yelp when fingers wrapped around her waist and pulled her deeper into the shadows and an unexpected embrace. The shocked sound of stolen breath turned to a sigh when she recognized the heady scents of masculine cologne and the intoxicating natural musk of…

"Chuuck!"

She relaxed against him and then they were kissing again, as if they'd been apart for days instead of the mere two hours following lunch. Lunch in the limo had become a regular thing for them. Whenever they felt they could safely get away with it, they ditched their respective cliques and found each other. It was getting harder and harder to keep their secret while keeping away from each other.

The sound of approaching students startled them out of their lip-locked reverie.

Blair recovered first and gave Chuck a shove and a slap. "Ugh, you're a pig, Bass!"

Curtains! Lights! The show was on.

Chuck rubbed his forearm, still stinging from her none-too-gentle swat. "You know, if you're trying out for The Shrew, Waldorf, I don't think you need any more rehearsal. It's method acting for you, isn't it?"

"If I be waspish, best beware my sting," she borrowed one of Katherine's lines from the play.

Chuck responded as Petruchio, "My remedy is then, to pluck it out."

"Ay, if the fool could find where it lies." Blair gave her most haughty snort.

"Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail." Chuck may have leered at her rounded derriere at this point.

"In his tongue." Blair's gaze may have lingered on his mouth.

"Whose tongue?" Chuck could understand how sparring with Kate and all this talk of tongues and tails could make Petruchio lose the plot.

"Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell."

"What, with my tongue in your tail?" Blair felt certain that line hadn't sounded nearly so naughty when Shakespeare penned it and the first Petruchio uttered it. "Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman."

The crowd that had gathered around them burst into laughter and applause at Chuck's last line and the spell was broken. It seemed a foregone conclusion who would be bringing Katherine and Petruchio to life on the stage. Woe unto any other hopefuls for the parts.

"Chuck, are you really going to audition for this?" Nate could scarcely believe his friend, who typically seemed uninterested in drama, at least onstage, was sincerely interested in the part.

Indeed, when he'd come down to the drama department, a student Shakespearean performance had been the furthest thing from Chuck Bass' mind. But now…if he got this role, he'd have an excuse to spend plenty of time with Blair…rehearsing. He'd even have a legitimate reason were he to be caught kissing her in the auditorium curtains….

"It's not without its benefits, Nathaniel." He was speaking to Nate, but his eyes were on Blair's and he gave her a little wink when no one was looking.

She gave a little Mona Lisa smile in return, her lips outlined in their signature shade.

On with the show!

Blair and Chuck had great fun preparing for their upcoming auditions. The only snag appeared when another student, a drama regular, decided he wanted to audition for Petruchio as well. He shouldn't have been at all surprised to find himself placed on school suspension the very afternoon he was supposed to go up in front of the drama teacher/casting director. He claimed, quite adamantly, that he was framed. This did not, however, explain the appearance of a second contraband substance being found in his locker during the search. Who gets framed twice?

Blair refused to even feel the slightest twinge of guilt over the issue. After all, this was Constance-St. Jude, not some performing arts school. If the hapless student actor had delusions of starring in his own real-life version of _Fame_ or _Glee_ , then he should just apply to Juilliard. Kate was hers, as were Petruchio and the equally unrepentant Chuck.

No one was surprised when the cast list was announced, but Gossip Girl theorized that Chuck was only doing the role for the extracurricular credit, as everyone knew he didn't do anything remotely athletic.

Chuck was in the back of his limo with a lapful of Blair Waldorf when the catty comment came through. They shared a look and a smile and she purred in his ear, "We both know that's not strictly true, don't we?"

"Kiss me, Kate," he whispered against her lips before they went right back to kissing each other senseless.

* * *

"Chuck, you're early!" Dr. Jessica Gold was surprised to see her client in the reception area nearly an hour before she'd been expecting him. "Come on back."

"Play practice was canceled today." He strolled in and took his usual seat.

"You sound disappointed."

"I get to banter with Blair and kiss her and get graduation credit for it. Not to mention it makes keeping our secret easier." The Cheshire cat grin made him look diabolically handsome.

"How do you feel about the ongoing secrecy?"

"I'd like for it to be over, but this is just one more step towards…," he fumbled for words.

"Coming out as a couple?" Jessica suggested.

He nodded. "We're together now; that's all that matters."

"You've avoided being in a relationship for a long time, Chuck. How are things going with Blair? Has it met your expectations?"

"It's exceeded them. But it's Blair; you can't really anticipate her. She's always a surprise." The smile that came over his face was genuine.

"You don't feel the situation has lost anything by her knowing your identity?"

"We still leave each other notes…and gifts." That very morning, he and Blair had surreptitiously swapped notes while passing in the hall on the way to an assembly. Her "hello, handsome" had been the perfect counterpart to his "good morning, beautiful" and the electric charge that passed between their fingers when they brushed against each other was just the icing on the cake.

"Gifts?"

"I left a silver star charm for her phone in her locker. She left me a red bow tie. I'm planning to wear it when we celebrate Valentine's Day next week."

"Of course you already have plans?" Jessica couldn't help grinning.

"Of course. I'm Chuck Bass."

Dr. Gold had to admit that her client and Miss Waldorf really got each other. She wondered if there was any of that lovely Veuve Clicquot left that Allison had brought home the other night. She was already mentally raising her glass.

* * *

"Mind your step, Miss Waldorf," Arthur cautioned as he opened the limo door bright and early on this Thursday morning, which also happened to be Valentine's Day.

Blair slowly slid out of car and onto her feet, looking around but seeing nothing due to the black silk blindfold on her face.

Chuck followed close behind, never letting go of her hand. "We're almost there. I won't let you fall."

The words, spoken against her ear, sent a little thrill through her. One hand was wrapped securely around her waist while the other was laced with her own fingers. She felt totally ensconced in Chuck's arms, his voice, his very breath. There was nowhere she'd rather be.

Arthur closed the limo door before moving up the sidewalk to open glass double doors for the couple. The two men exchanged grins as Blair vainly tried to look and listen for clues.

Their shoes made little echoes on a floor that, judging from the sounds and the feel, must be polished marble. The way the sound came back to her ears suggested the ceilings were high and the air smelled like…treasure…and tradition.

"Where are we, Bass?" she demanded, more curious than cantankerous.

"You'll see. Somewhere I know you will like." He sounded more than a little smug. He nodded to Arthur in dismissal. "Are you ready for a visual clue?"

She nodded.

His fingers came up and gently unworked the knot in the ebony silk scarf. He slid the fabric down her face, allowing his fingers to trace over her cheekbones, alongside her nose, ghosting over her lips and the tip of her chin.

She could see everything now, but all she really needed to see was the smile on his face.

He stepped to the side, affording her the view of a glass display case. Inside, against a champagne-colored satin backdrop, was a gigantic yellow diamond set in a gold brooch setting. The stone was crowned with a stylized bird set with dozens (it looked like hundreds) of tiny yellow and white diamonds and a crest, beak and feet of pure gold. Its eye was a single pink diamond. It was exquisite. Like something royalty from yesteryear would be proud to possess.

She gasped.

"Know where you are now?"

"Of course! That's the Tiffany Diamond, currently in the 'Bird on a Rock' setting. Nearly 130 carats -."

"128.54, to be exact. It's about three times the mass of the Hope Diamond."

"It was mined in 1870s in South Africa. Mr. Tiffany used to tour the country with it in the early 1900s. Jean Schlumberger, the French designer, put into a necklace setting and it was later used to promote -."

"Your favorite film," he finished with a smile.

"Audrey Hepburn was one of only two women who ever wore it."

"If it were still in a necklace, you would be the third," he said with regret in his voice. "Since, alas, it is not, I've arranged for you to inspect all the behind-the-scenes treasures here at Tiffany's." He gestured to a small team of curators standing at attention to show them all that the Tiffany archives had to offer.

Blair spent the next three-quarters of an hour in a wonderland, happily absorbing all the sights and information about some of the world's most exclusive jewels. That Chuck had done this for her, had given her this unique experience, moved her beyond words.

When they reached the end of the tour, they were ushered into a little room with sunlight streaming through the windows. Snowy linen covered a table for two set with fine silver service and crystal champagne flutes already filled with mimosas. A small picnic basket waited for them alongside a small bowl filled with the palest pink peonies.

"What would a breakfast at Tiffany's be if there were no breakfast?"

What indeed? Tears sprang to her eyes and she couldn't say anything at first. She lifted the lid of the wooden basket and the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked goodness floated up to her nostrils.

"Mixed berry scones from Alice's Tea Cup?" she said hopefully, pulling out the first of a series of linen wrapped parcels.

"They _are_ your favorite," he nodded. "Along with some chocolate-strawberry ones, which happen to be mine."

"With clotted crème?" She kept unpacking.

"Freshly made, and some amazing raspberry preserves to top it all off."

"I don't think anything could top this off -," her voice trailed as she reached something in the bottom of the basket.

Her hand came up, holding an oblong box in the traditional Tiffany blue.

"I hope this will. Happy Valentine's Day, Blair." He took the box from her hands, and slowly pulled up the hinged lid.

Blair had just spent the better part of an hour looking at world-class gems and settings, but none pleased her more than the white gold and diamond floral circlet with the filigree heart pendant drop that was glimmering up at her.

He started to take it out of the box.

"No, no, I—I couldn't…," she started to protest. The gift was too perfect, too precious. Just like this moment.

"Yes, you can," he said evenly. "It's meant for you. Something this beautiful should be worn by someone worthy of its beauty."

"I don't know what to say," she confessed. This was not something that happened to Blair Waldorf often.

He fastened the clasp behind her neck and handed her a mimosa. "Say 'cheers'."

Their glasses clinked and they shared a smile before sitting down to share their breakfast.

All too soon, their repast was over and Blair looked down reluctantly at her watch. "I wish we didn't have to go to school this morning," she sighed, "but I have a geography test." Her fingers came up to trace the heart shape of her pendant.

His eyes followed. "As long as you've enjoyed your surprise."

"You know I have, and you know what, Bass? The day's not over yet. You got breakfast, but I'm getting dinner."

He raised one perfect dark eyebrow in response. "What do you have planned?"

"You'll see. The first clue is already waiting for you," she promised. "Now I must go get ready for school. I'll catch a cab home."

"You don't want to take the limo?"

"We both know if I get in that vehicle, we won't be ending up at school today." She gave him a kiss that was all too fleeting.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," he murmured as he watched her retreating form.

* * *

Chuck spun the combination lock on Blair's locker with an ease that was equal to opening his own.

Of course it was there on the shelf: a tiny envelope like the valentines they gave as small children. He made sure the coast was clear before ripping it open.

The paper card inside was a vintage design with a stylized honeybee and the words "Bee mine, valentine" printed below. He turned it over.

 _If thou desires to be mine,_

 _Five more cards thou needst find_

 _Before the hour at which we dine_

" _All the world's a stage."_

 _XoXo, B._

Elizabethan English…and a Shakespeare quote. This was easy. The next clue was clearly somewhere in the drama department.

Who could go to class when such a compelling mystery was in front of him?

Certainly not Chuck Bass.

* * *

He made his way to Dramatic Arts, which was deserted this early in the day, but he struggled to find the card once he got there. He surveyed the stage, leafed through copies of the plays, checked both the male and female dressing rooms and only achieved success when he started rifling through costumes in the wardrobe closets. There, hidden in the pocket of a male Elizabethan costume, was the second clue.

This card was also vintage: a roaring lion with "You drive me wild, valentine."

The poem on the back read:

 _If the next clue you wish to unseal_

 _You must uncover it behind the wheel._

Wheel? Something automotive then. Again, all too easy. She had to mean the limo. He rang for Arthur.

* * *

It was tucked between the seat cushions in their favorite spot on the leather bench seat. The little minx had probably put it there this morning when he'd picked her up for breakfast.

The card depicted a race car. "You make my heart race, valentine."

 _I am made from trees, but my leaves cannot fall._

 _I am filled with knowledge, but have no brain at all._

A book. Of course! Most likely place to find a book? The library!

* * *

"Ladies," Chuck affected a gallant bow as he strolled by the checkout desk.

He was greeted with grins and giggles.

He kept on walking. Straight for the Classics section.

He scanned the titles on the shelves. Where would it be?

 _Paradise Found?_

 _Persuasion?_

 _The Age of Innocence?_

 _A Midsummer Night's Dream?_

Ah, success. Right in the middle was the by-now familiar envelope and card, this time with an owl. The lettering read, "I'm owl yours, valentine."

The page in the book had Lysander's words to Hermia underscored in red ink. Defacing school library property? He'd made his good girl go bad indeed. The corners of his mouth turned up.

The words were repeated on the back of the valentine, along with the next clue. Something about going back to the beginning. Again, no challenge. Of course she meant the duck pond at Central Park where they'd first laid eyes on each other a dozen years before.

But then he read the quote.

 _One turf shall serve as pillow for us both._

 _One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth_.

His mouth went dry and his blood rushed south. His patience sailed clear out the window. Why was he standing here reading this when they might be together at this very moment?

He was only on the fourth clue, but he decided to dispense with the rest. As far as he was concerned, the clues were keeping him from Blair, rather than leading him to her. Regardless of where their final rendezvous lay, she had to go home and change at some point, right? And he would be right there waiting for her.

* * *

An hour later, freshly turned out in a black tux and the red bow tie Blair had given him, Chuck arrived at Casa Waldorf, snow white peonies in hand.

Gaining admittance was no problem, though he hadn't decided how best to explain his presence to Dorota. It turned out not to be a problem, as the place seemed deserted.

Then he heard a rustling noise from upstairs.

He took the stairs two at a time and peeped through the open door into Blair's room.

Standing in front of the plate glass mirror, she was a goddess in an antique ivory satin slip and lacy stockings, her lips slightly parted as she was poised to apply her lipstick.

"You don't need that tonight," he whispered as he slid up next to her. "I'm going to kiss you until your lips blush all by themselves."

"Chuck!" she whirled around to face him, "You aren't supposed to be here for another two hours at least!"

"I cheated," he confessed, though he didn't look in the least ashamed. "Like I told you, I don't need clues to find you." His fingers traced the outline of the heart pendant and then across her collar bones and up to the side of her neck, where he gently placed a kiss. "You're wearing your necklace."

"Of course. I haven't taken it off since this morning." She leaned into his kiss. "Speaking of this morning, thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm not finished giving you presents." He scooped her up then, and carried her to the bed. "That last clue was just a little too inspiring."

He started with her stockings, unfastening the garters and then sliding each one down a silky expanse of leg, then over her ankles and heels and off the tips of her toes. His fingers took their time, appreciating the tender skin of her thigh, the curve of her calf.

She purred and melted closer into him. Before he knew it, his red bow tie had gone flying and the buttons of his suit jacket were being released. He could feel her nails through his shirt and when her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled his lips to hers, he was completely lost in her.

This would not do. This was supposed to be all about her. "Slow, slow." It was unclear if he was talking to her or himself.

He reminded himself that he'd meant what he said to her that first night in the limo: He wanted to take it slow and make it perfect for her. He had held true to that. Not that it had been easy. She'd used her wiles to make it hard for him.

So…very…hard.

Every time he felt he drawn a line, she pushed it just a little further. And now he was ready to surrender…

But not before he gave her one last gift…

His fingers slid under slip and found the lacy wisp of La Perlas she was wearing, gently tugging until she raised her hips and he pulled the panties aside. Then he was at her knees, kissing his way up…up…up…

Her eyes flew open, then squeezed shut again, contracting the same way her fingers were in his hair, in the sheets, in his back…

The little sounds she was making gave way to louder, longer ones that finally culminated in a cry of ecstasy and her collapsing deeper into the bed. When she opened her eyes, he was looking up at her, hair mussed and eyes smoldering.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Blair." His voice, which normally sounded like he'd just gotten out of bed, sounded even more so and suddenly there was nothing Blair Waldorf wanted more than to keep him in it.

She sat up slowly and pulled at the hem of her slip, tugging it over her head. She leaned over and kissed him once…twice. "Stay?"

He knew what she was asking and that this was what they both wanted, more than anything.

"One heart," he touched her pendant again.

"One bed," she smoothed the covers and moved over to make more room for him.

"Two bosoms." Though he knew the original phrasing meant 2 bodies, he couldn't resist squeezing her rose-tipped breasts before pulling their bodies close together once more.

"One -," she was cut off by his kiss.

One.

And so, for Valentine's Day, Blair Waldorf gave her virginity to Chuck Bass…and Chuck Bass gave his heart to Blair Waldorf…and it was perfect.

* * *

He wasn't prepared. He'd taken every step he knew to make it wonderful for her. He just hadn't expected how he would feel.

Warm.

Light.

Euphoric.

Unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

And when she opened sleep-glazed eyes and smiled up at him, he was overwhelmed by the surge of emotions he felt. He wanted, desperately, to tell her what he was feeling. But his mouth couldn't seem to form a word.

What he felt was beyond butterflies.

Bliss.

Kilig.

All those things and more.

No single word could describe the intensity.

Her hand came up to cup his jaw and his lips involuntarily curved before kissing her fingertips and planting a circle of kisses around her collar bone, just below her necklace.

Their lips met and once again, they were connected.

Body to body.

Heart to heart.

Soul to soul.

* * *

When he opened his eyes hours later, dawn's earliest light was peeking through the sheer lace curtains in Blair's room.

Dawn.

It was tomorrow already.

They'd spent the whole night coupling and cuddling. The bouquet of peonies he'd brought lay forgotten on her dressing table. They had missed dinner entirely.

Blair was still fast asleep in his arms and he was careful not to wake her when he pressed a feather-light kiss against her temple.

He should want to go, right? They were exhausted, starving, and possibly feverish. Yet somehow the thought of leaving this bed was unbearable.

As he scrambled to come up with some way that staying forever might be possible, she stirred beside him.

"Good morning, beautiful."

"Mmm," she sighed. "Hello, handsome." He was sure no one had ever heard that sultry, satisfied tone in her voice before. She stretched luxuriantly, but then winced in pain.

"Are you sore?" He was immediately solicitous. "Did I hurt you, sweetheart?"

"Just a little sore," she admitted. "But last night was…"

"Amazing," they finished at the same time and laughed, their foreheads touching.

"A warm bath will help. Shall I start one for you?"

"Are you planning on joining me?" It was the sexiest of invitations.

"I wouldn't miss it." He was already on his way to her en suite.

Blair allowed herself to relax as she listened to him filling the tub. Then she heard it. An expletive.

She wrapped herself in a robe and went to investigate. "What's wrong?"

"Dorota—where is she?" He looked a little panicked.

"I hope you aren't asking for a threesome already, Bass."

"Just trying to avoid the wrath of a Polish witch when she discovers I've climbed the princess' tower and done some very wicked things with her."

"I gave Dorota the weekend off yesterday and told her I'd be staying with Serena. Their doorman is her beau."

"Our little Dorota has a beau?" Chuck raised his eyebrow.

"You aren't jealous, are you?"

"Just very, very grateful that I won't be exiled from the kingdom. I won't, will I?"

She untied her robe and let it fall at her feet before stepping into the warm water and beckoning him to follow.

As the comforting warmth of the water and the even more comforting silkiness of Blair surrounded him, he felt like he was in uncharted waters, but oddly enough, he was not uncomfortable.

He was ready to follow wherever she might lead.

To Be Continued in Chapter 12

* * *

Author's Note: It's a whole new world for our couple right now, isn't it?

The yellow Tiffany diamond is a real thing. For Tiffany's 175th anniversary, it was put into a new setting, another necklace, so Blair might actually be able to try it on today, but not at the time this story was set.

This chapter is a special salute to two dear friends of mine, who also happen to be GG writers: rayj829 and hybridkingbass (check out his cool GG gifsets on Tumblr). I appreciate your loyalty and friendship. Have a beautiful birthday next week!

Special thanks to Chrys1130 and Shrk22 for talking story with me.

To all my readers, sorry this chapter has been a bit later than usual. An unexpected bout of pneumonia sent me to the hospital for a few days, and the writing and recovery have been slow going since then. I hope I've done this chapter justice. Leave me a review and let me know what you think, please.

Until next time, xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck and Blair celebrated their first Valentine's Day…and their first night together.

Chapter 12

Blair stirred in her sleep. She was so warm and the covers felt so good that she snuggled in deeper. Her fingers brushed through fibers that felt like fine hair and, dear God, what was that deliciously musky smell?

Chuck!

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up, a shock going through her as she realized he was looking right into her eyes.

"Good morning, beautiful." If it had sounded good printed in the note he had written a couple of days ago, it sounded even better whispered against her ear.

"Hello, handsome." The purr sounded sultry and satisfied. Was that really her voice? She stretched, then winced as she felt the twinges of soreness in her body.

He'd been instantly attentive. He'd run her a warm bath - she hadn't been expecting that – and then actually got into the tub with her – she hadn't been expecting that either.

In truth, she'd been expecting him to leave as soon as possible.

After the first time…and every time thereafter…

When they'd awakened together…

Blair knew that "one and done" was Chuck's modus operandi – Nate had talked about it enough that she should. Usually, he couldn't ditch the girl soon enough afterwards.

But he was still here…with her. And he didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. He took his time unclasping her necklace and setting it on the ledge by the tub. They giggled like little kids when she splashed him with bubbles and they got into a water fight. Eventually the splashing gave way to stroking and she was back in his lap with nothing to keep them apart again.

Nothing except Chuck's belated sense of honor. His hands stilled her hips.

She looked at him in confusion.

"Blair, you're sore," he reminded her.

She stilled his lips with hers. "I want this. I want you."

He was looking at her like he wanted to say something, but the moment passed and they went right back to being absorbed in each other.

And poor Dorota's pristine bath got quite the splashing.

Afterwards, they washed each other's hair and soaked until Blair complained her skin was getting pruney. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly.

"Blair, when did you last eat?"

"Sometime yesterday. I don't remember. I was busy getting ready for our dinner date."

"In case you didn't notice, there was no dinner."

"That's because Clue #6 was supposed to lead you to pick it up before you arrived," she added archly.

"Hey, I made it up to Clue #4," he said in his own defense. "I just couldn't wait any longer to see you." He took her hand and kissed it.

She blushed and didn't even try to hide her pleased smile.

"Well, let's go see what Dorota has in the kitchen," he suggested.

Blair rummaged through her closet and found a robe for him, but even though it hung on her, the pewter velvet wraparound was still tight on him. For herself, she snagged his white dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves. She had taken a hairbrush from the vanity and was attempting to coax her hair back into some semblance of order when she felt his eyes on her.

"What?" Her hands went to her still-messy hair and a face completely free of makeup or enhancement. The material of the shirt floated out around her body. She must look a sight.

He didn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulled her hair to the side and planted light kisses down her neck, sneaking glances at themselves in the vanity mirror as he did so. "I think this shirt looks better on you," he decided. "C'mon, let's get something to eat."

* * *

"There's not much here," Chuck pronounced as he peered into the refrigerator and Blair investigated the butler's pantry. "Aha, eggs! And a little bit of bacon. Some fruit. This could work."

"I thought you were looking for something we could eat, Bass. Just who do you think is going to cook that?"

"I am." The statement was simple and direct.

"You are?!" Her dubious tone stopped just shy of a sneer.

"Prepare to be impressed by my culinary skills, Waldorf."

"I can think of other impressive skills you have, but none of them are in connection with a kitchen."

"O ye of little faith! Here, be my sous-chef and cut up this fruit," he handed her a package of strawberries and a plastic bag of red grapes from the refrigerator.

"This is not quite how I had envisioned being under you this morning," she grumbled good-naturedly, taking the fruits and rinsing them in a colander in the sink. She pulled some grapes off their stems and put them in a small serving bowl before getting out the cutting board and removing the stems and cores from the strawberries.

"All in good time." He cooked some strips of bacon in a skillet, then let them drain on a paper towel, while he whisked eggs, cream and some water in a bowl.

"Water?" Blair was still dubious.

"Just a little bit. It keeps the eggs light and fluffy." He poured the mixture into a skillet with melted butter and the eggs began sizzling immediately.

"Now we add the bacon," he said under his breath as he crumbled the bacon and sprinkled it over the cooking eggs, along with a sprinkling of pepper. He let it cook a minute more before reaching for a silicone turner. "And give it a flip," he executed a perfect fold that would've done a cooking show proud.

"How did you do that?" Blair's skepticism had turned to awe.

"It's all in the wrist," he confided.

"No, where did you learn how to do that?" she persisted.

"I grew up in a hotel. The kitchen staff made omelets millions of times. I watched and learned." He used the turner to remove the omelet and divide it between their two plates, finishing off the dish with a dash of salt. "And now the tasting," he offered her a plate and fork.

Her eyes closed in bliss with the first bite. "Mmm, this is so good. You are a man of many talents."

"I don't know if I should be pleased or devastated that you are using that phrase to describe my cooking."

"Maybe not only your cooking," she teased.

They finished their meal before tidying up and settling in to watch a movie. It seemed only appropriate that the film should be _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. Holly and Paul had found Cat (and each other) and were kissing madly, as were Chuck and Blair, when Blair's cell phone began to trill.

It was Dorota. She was coming home early and wanted to know if Miss Blair needed anything special from the market. When Blair ended the call, she looked over at Chuck, disappointment in her eyes.

And then his phone began to play the opening strains of Darth Vader's "Imperial March."

"Guess who?" They looked at each other and grinned at the inside joke.

After a brief conversation, he silenced the phone and let his eyes return to Blair's.

As if on cue, the ending credits of the film began to run.

The End…

Of the movie…

Of their blissful idyll.

"My dad wants to discuss some things about Victrola," he said unnecessarily.

"And Dorota will be back with the groceries," she agreed glumly.

"It's too soon."

She nodded. It would always be too soon.

But reality called.

He should have headed for the door; he went to Blair instead and took her hands.

Once again, he was overwhelmed by the crazy cocktail of emotions that was going through him.

Tenderness.

Desire.

Exhilaration.

Calm.

Terror.

Security.

Luck.

Humility.

Some of these things he'd never felt before and the chaos of feeling them all at once floored him. He wished again that there was some way, some word to express that to her.

His hands came up to cup her face. At least some of his feelings were mirrored there as well. Maybe she knew how to describe it? The answer shone elusively in the depths of her dark eyes, but refused to cross her lips.

"I – I don't want to go." It was not the eloquence he had hoped for.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and swallowed. "I wish you could stay."

His lips grazed hers before he went upstairs to get ready to leave.

He was half dressed when she slipped into the room.

"I still have your shirt." She started unrolling the sleeves.

"I'd be tempted to tell you to keep it – it looks better on you – but I can hardly be seen leaving your building without it," he said ruefully.

"I know." Her fingers moved to the placket and went to work unfastening the buttons. When she was done, the garment slid off her shoulders and pooled at her feet.

And then she was standing in front of him, curves on full display, hair falling in natural waves, lips kissed to bee-stung fullness, an invitation in her eyes.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Last night was not enough.

This morning was not enough.

He wanted her still…

In two steps, she was in his arms and they were holding onto each other like they might never let go.

"But Bart -," she reminded him.

"Can wait," he finished.

If all they had was just a few more precious minutes, then he was going to make every single second count.

Afterwards, he dressed again and wrapped her in the pewter velvet robe. It still smelled like his skin and she pulled it more closely around her as they walked downstairs.

It was time to go. It couldn't be delayed any longer.

He kissed her forehead. Then her lips.

"Blair, I -." Again, words failed him. He was still feeling all that he'd felt earlier. If anything, it had only gotten stronger. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

She nodded.

As the elevator doors closed, he felt as though he were leaving part of himself behind…with her.

* * *

The meeting with his father ran late, and when he left his father's suite, Chuck had a punch list of tasks to be completed before Victrola could open. He felt exhausted and overwhelmed.

He felt somewhat better after talking with Blair on the phone, but he still chafed at the frustration of not being able to see her, to touch her again. The bed felt cold and empty without her. He told himself he was just imagining things; it had just been one night.

One glorious night.

And a morning and afternoon that were equally amazing.

But it was so much more than missing her body. He wanted to hear the next witty comment to come out of her mouth, to watch the emotions flash across her face. He just wanted to look at her. And hold her hand.

Tomorrow. He would see her tomorrow.

Except he didn't.

Bart dragged him off to some businessman's brunch and by the time that was over, Chuck had a whole new list of things to be checked or double-checked for the opening of his club. At any other time, he would've been thrilled that his father was taking notice of him and his project. To go from being completely ignored to being micromanaged was disconcerting, to say the least. To not be able to see Blair on top of that seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.

"Tomorrow morning," he promised Blair (and himself) on the phone that evening.

So it was that Chuck Bass found himself in the halls of Constance Billard bright and early Monday morning, a single peony discreetly in hand, on a mission to find his queen.

And find her he did…only someone else had gotten there first.

He stopped short. Why was Nathaniel at Blair's locker and why was he handing her a bouquet of…weeds?

Emotions rose, so quickly he felt he might be ill.

Panic.

Fear.

Anger.

Envy.

In vain, he reminded himself that this was his best friend. It didn't matter; this was his Blair. He wanted to run over there, knock the gigantic bouquet of wildflowers out of his friend's hand, wrap his arms around her and declare before any and all witnesses that she was his.

What was Nate thinking? That he could neglect Blair for years and sleep with her best friend, then suddenly decide he'd made the wrong call, bring her a handful of flowers and everything would be fine again?

And such flowers! Anyone who knew Blair could tell you that she was not a daisies-and-Queen-Anne's-lace kind of girl. Idiot.

She was looking down at the blooms, clearly fumbling for something to say, when she looked up and saw Chuck standing there.

"Chuck! I'm so glad you found me," she broke out in a smile. "We need to go over that scene again."

He had no idea what she was talking about, but the relief at seeing her again and having her smile at him was intoxicating.

"Nate, thank you for the flowers. It was a lovely gesture. I have to go. Bye now!" She wiggled her fingers in a little wave as she walked away.

When they got around the corner, Blair found the closest trash receptacle and ditched the bouquet. Then she dragged Chuck into the nearest janitor's closet.

"I hope you don't plan on doing that with my floral offering," he handed her the single peony and took pride in her grudging grin.

"Ugh, where have you been, Bass? I thought you were never coming!"

"I rather like this new hobby of you dragging me off into closets." He pulled her into his arms. "Tell me," he murmured in her ear, "are you planning on having your wicked way with me here?"

"Stop it, I'm trying to be angry with you!" It was a half-hearted protest at best.

"Would you consider being angry with me over coffee at Sant Ambroeus?"

"I'm only saying yes for the caffeine. And because I'm starving."

"I'm starving for you." His lips were on her neck. "Would you also say yes to…," he whispered something very naughty in her ear.

She looked at her watch. "How soon can Arthur have the limo here?"

* * *

They took the long way to Sant Ambroeus.

"I feel very, very relaxed right now," she confided breathlessly.

"I live to serve. Even if I have to wait in line to do so." A note of bitterness had crept into his voice.

"Are you…jealous?" She scrutinized his face intensely.

He avoided her eyes. "Define jealous."

"You are!" There were equal parts surprise and victory in her tone. "Well, you don't need to be. I had no idea Nate would be making a beeline for me this morning."

"So why is he? Why isn't he pursuing Serena?"

"Haven't you seen her new pet boy?"

He shook his head.

"Lucky you. She's adopted some stray creature from Brooklyn. Follows her around like a puppy. It's very hairy and rumpled looking. I'm scared it might bite," she shuddered.

He laughed. "Hmm, so Nate has competition. What's he going to do about that?"

"Knowing Nate, probably nothing," she sighed.

"Maybe someone needs to clear the way for him then."

"What are you thinking, Chuck? You have to let me in on it. There's no point in our scheming twice, like we did with that hapless would-be Petruchio."

"True. We should be conserving our effort for better things." He kissed her again.

"Either way, I'm all yours – mind, body and scheme."

* * *

"How are you, Chuck?" It was more than inane small talk with Dr. Jessica Gold; she sincerely wanted to know. "It's been a couple of weeks since I've seen you."

"Busy. My club, Victrola, just opened last week."

"That's great news. I know you've been waiting and working hard for this to happen."

"I have. And it's going even better than I could've hoped. We had a great opening and lines out the door every night since. So far the reviews have been good."

"You must be pleased."

"Oh, I am, and more importantly, so is my father."

"Why do you consider his approval more important than your own? You talk as though everything is riding on that."

"Because it is. My father is bankrolling the project and I have a year to make it succeed. This affects my whole future with my father's company."

"But surely you are guaranteed a position in the company, no matter what."

"You never know with Bart Bass. He built the company from nothing. I want to bring something to it too."

"That's admirable, but very stressful."

He nodded. "Before we opened, he kept giving me punch lists. I thought I was never going to be done in time."

"But you were. You passed the test!"

"With some help from Blair," he smiled. "She's been amazing."

"You two have been working together?"

"She's been with me every step of the way. Blair helped me get everything crossed off my father's lists, then she got me these," he pulled out an embossed leather business card holder and handed Dr. Gold one of the cards. "She designed the logo herself and we used it on the building's sign as well." A stylized bronze metallic Victrola crowned the elegant card with his name and contact information.

"Things have been good between you then?"

"So good. I only wish we could be done with the secrecy."

"Nate still doesn't know?"

"Not yet. We keep conspiring to bring him and Serena together, but thus far, they have been remarkably stubborn."

"How so?"

"Well, Serena is obsessed with some beatnik from Brooklyn right now and Nate keeps bringing Blair little gifts."

"I thought that was your shtick," Jessica teased. "How do you feel about that?"

"Please, he brought her wildflowers. Blair!" Chuck almost shuddered in horror.

"You weren't jealous at all?" She was careful to school her face into a serious expression, despite the fact that she was perilously close to giggling.

"Look, I just want to be honest with my best friend, even though he's probably going to punch me and never speak to me again once he figures out his ex-girlfriend is mine," he frowned.

Jessica paused for a second. He didn't even realize that he'd all but called Blair his girlfriend. What a change from the young man who'd come into her office a short time ago swearing that he "didn't do girlfriends." She was drawn from her train of thought by Chuck's next statement.

"We had dinner the other night, the four of us."

"And how did that go?"

"Awkward, mostly," he confided, though he didn't mention that he and Blair had held hands under the table for most of the evening, then they'd graduated to his rubbing circles on her inner thigh and her tracing his calf with her stockinged toes. The ride home had taken forever, but they'd finally ditched Nate and Serena and ended up back at his suite at the Palace.

"It looks like your plan didn't work."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. They are both working too hard to fight it for it to be genuine disinterest," he grinned. "Besides, Blair and I have not yet begun to scheme."

"Well, my money is on the two of you. You make a good team."

"This is how it was always supposed to be. Nate and Serena. Blair and me. I just wish I could tell her…," he trailed off.

"Tell her what?" The prompting was gentle.

"What I feel."

"What do you feel?"

"Everything," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I just can't put it into words."

"It sounds like you've tried." There was an implied question in her statement.

"Oh, I have. Repeatedly."

"When two people are together, it's about connection and communication. That doesn't always mean verbal communication. I know that you show her how you feel."

He did that. He might not say the words—or even know what they were—but in every look, every touch, every little gesture and gift, he expressed it the only way he knew how. She had to feel that, right?

"Don't rush it," Dr. Gold cautioned. "Remember, all acts of intimacy are acts of courage. In time, it will happen organically, the same way you got together."

God, he hoped so.

* * *

It was late when he got in that evening. Between school, the appointment with Dr. Gold, and checking in at Victrola, Chuck had barely had time to squeeze in a few texts to Blair and now all he wanted to do was call her and then get some sleep.

It was a surprise, to say the least, when he opened the door to his suite to find the fireplace going and a flotilla of candles around the room. There was a miniature cake decorated with a Victrola and two waiting flutes next to an opened bottle of Dom in the ice bucket. To top it all off, there was Blair, wrapped in an aubergine silk robe with her hair falling down around her, holding out a newspaper to him.

"What's this?" He took it and scanned the headlines on the front page of the Lifestyle section.

He saw it at the same time she read it aloud, "Burlesque Club Shines As Jewel In Bass Family Crown." She beamed at him. "This is the best review yet. They call it an 'exotic escape' and 'desirable evening destination for Manhattanites.' So we need to celebrate. I hope you're not too tired for dessert."

He had no idea if she was talking about the cake or herself, but either way, he wasn't saying no. He stood, slightly bemused, as she poured sparkling golden liquid into each flute and then handed him one.

"To your continued success," she raised her glass proudly.

No one had ever celebrated Chuck Bass before and that she'd taken these pains to surprise him…the feelings that had started out as butterflies and intensified into so much more threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted so much to tell her what it meant to him, what she meant to him, but it suddenly seemed just so much easier to show her….

Afterwards, they curled up in bed, nibbling the rich cake and sipping the champagne. His life at this moment seemed absolutely perfect.

Then she looked at the clock. "It's getting late. I'll have to go soon. Do you think Arthur could give me a lift home?"

"Of course," His mouth uttered the words, but inside, his head was screaming for her to stay. "I guess there's only so much late-night Shakespeare rehearsal that's believable, huh?" He reluctantly started to get dressed and she did the same.

"Oh, speaking of Shakespeare, I arranged for Nate to be the understudy for Lucentio. I have a feeling he'll be needed on a regular basis over the next few weeks. What better way to encourage Nate with Serena than to have him onstage with her? She'll make a lovely Bianca."

"Even the Bard can't move characters around the way you do," he said appreciatively. "If you said the sun was the moon, I'd believe you in a heartbeat, because even if it wasn't, you'd make it so."

"I'm just resourceful…and inspired." She gave him a kiss that took his breath away.

They were at the door, ready to leave, and the emotions welled up in him again.

"Blair, I -." The words were right there on the tip of his tongue, hanging by a moment.

She was looking up at him and it felt like he was drowning in those dark eyes.

"I want you to go away with me on spring break. Will you?"

She took a shaky breath and swallowed before she replied.

* * *

They planned their trip in the limo on the way back to her building.

He hadn't been planning on proposing a romantic getaway.

She hadn't been planning on agreeing to go.

But once the words were off his lips…

And once her head bobbed in a little nod…

It suddenly seemed like the most brilliant idea ever.

Almost a week of no chaperones, no curfews, no fear of gossip or secrets…just the two of them, completely free to be together.

"You'll probably have to sneak away to meet me," he reminded her, knowing neither her mother nor Dorota would sanction the trip. "Are you sure?" It was almost too good to be true and he had to know.

"I'll tell them I'm going to the Hamptons with Serena," she decided.

"Well, this is _your_ trip. Where do you want to go?"

"Somewhere warm," she replied in a dreamy tone. "Surprise me!"

"You don't have any dream destinations or a wish list of things you want to do?"

"I'll have you; that's all I need."

The butterflies were swarming again.

He pulled her closer and kissed her until they were both shaking. He was going to make this trip perfect for her.

They broke apart for a moment, to take a much-needed breath.

"Chuck, I -." She was looking at him intently, and he couldn't look away. Was she going to say it? Was she going to tell him what she was feeling right now? "I can't wait to go away on break with you."

The feeling was entirely mutual.

* * *

Two weeks later, Chuck was giving instructions about his luggage to the hotel bellman when there was a sharp rap at the door of his suite.

Before he could answer, the door swung open and his father walked in.

"Oh, Charles, I'm glad I caught you. There are some items we need to discuss."

Well, that sounded ominous.

Chuck look at his watch. His timetable was tight. He needed to be sure his luggage got loaded into the car and that he wasn't going to be late in meeting Blair at the airport. "I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry…."

"Relax, Charles, I know all about your vacation with Miss Waldorf. I also know that you're taking the company jet—it's not like it can leave without you on it."

Chuck said nothing. Really, what was there to say to that?

"I am aware that you'll be staying at the resort we just acquired last quarter. While you're there, I want you to check out the facilities and the amenities. Make sure they're up to Bass standards. See if you have any ideas about upgrades or renovations. I daresay the new club has given you some experience in evaluating these things."

Was that a question or a statement? Chuck wasn't sure, so he just nodded. Part of his mind had already departed with Blair and he was having trouble getting the remaining part focused on his great white shark of a father.

"Is there anything in particular you want information about?"

"I will trust your judgement. And I will trust that you won't make me sorry that I did." Again with the icy blue glare.

He nodded again. Maybe this uncomfortable interview was coming to an end.

"And Chuck? Another thing…"

No such luck.

"About this…," he fumbled for a word, " _connection_ with Miss Waldorf…."

He could swear the blood had just frozen in his veins.

"I approve. Waldorf Designs offers some interesting potential growth opportunities, and Eleanor Waldorf is very savvy, in addition to all her old money connections."

Potential growth opportunities? Old money connections? Was Bart serious? He would never consider using Blair that way! White hot anger tempered his frozen blood. "I've never even thought about -."

"That's just it," Bart cut in, "you never do. Now you're going away with her and you'll be together 24/7. She's a smart girl; you're not going to be able to hide anything from her. So don't screw this up! She's not one of your whores."

Chuck was torn between wanting to knock him down for even mentioning whores and Blair in the same sentence and wanting to scream that he didn't want to hide anything. Blair saw him, the real him, the person that no one else saw—and she cared about him, right?

But would she still after days of being with him in close quarters? Would she still be toasting him with champagne and kissing him senseless then? Or would she slowly withdraw or, worse, reject him outright?

He couldn't bear that; he knew he couldn't. Oh, God, what had he done in planning this holiday?

Chuck was still reeling from all this thoughts when he realized Bart was finished with his little speech and preparing to take his leave. He stood there like an idiot, even when Bart pulled something from his suit pocket and tossed a small package his way.

He caught it in midair and looked down. It was a pair of monogrammed handkerchiefs, CB standing out in bold relief. He looked at his father in confusion.

"The lipstick looks better on Miss Waldorf." Maybe Bart was going for a smile, but it came out as a smirk instead.

Chuck supposed he should be glad that it was his father who'd noticed that night and not Gossip Girl or her minions, but it just added to his feelings of stupidity.

When his father left the room, he just slumped down onto the sofa, unsure what to do. Should he go and face disappointing Blair and possible rejection? Or should he stay? How would he even explain that to her? "Oh, sorry, never mind about our trip."

There was another knock at the door. It was the bellman with a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. He tipped the man and was left alone to open the mystery package.

It was a plastic bottle with a note tied around it with a purple ribbon. Hmm, suntan lotion.

He read the note. "I've packed my lipstick and my bathing suit (though maybe I won't need the bathing suit?). Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to rub this all over me. I can't wait for our vacation to begin. I'm so glad you asked me to come with you. Love, Blair. P.S. Are you ever going to tell me where we are going?"

By the time he finished reading it, the smile had returned to his face. No, the bathing suit would not be necessary, not if he had anything to say about it. And he was more than ready to carry out his mission. He loved how passionate she was, how she was never shy with him, how everything they did together just felt natural and right. He only hoped this trip would feel the same.

"All acts of intimacy are acts of courage," Dr. Gold had said. This was going to take more courage than he had ever needed in his life.

Lady Macbeth had said, "Screw your courage to the sticking place. And we'll not fail." She'd been wrong about a lot of things; he hoped she was right about this one.

He slipped the lotion and the handkerchiefs into his pocket, then texted Blair that he was running late but was on his way.

When he got to the airport…

When he first saw her standing there waiting for him…

When their eyes met and her face lit up…

When their fingers entwined and held…

When their lips said what their voices could not…

Chuck knew.

He was right where he belonged.

To Be Continued in Chapter 13

* * *

Author's Note:

So Chuck and Blair are airborne. Where do you think they're going? What will they be doing there? Any predictions? Requests? I'd love to hear them. While I have plans for their trip, I've gotten some pretty interesting ideas from readers and reviews in the past.

Case in point: The scene where Bart gives Chuck the handkerchiefs was inspired by a comment made by rayj829 about the party at Victrola. She thought Bart should make a remark about the lipstick on Chuck's face. I thought so too, but it was a question of timing for me. Bart likes to stir the pot, but he likes to let it boil a bit first. I thought he'd sit on that knowledge and then bring it up at the most awkward time, which he did.

The handkerchiefs were inspired by one of my fictional boyfriends, Mr. Rhett Butler of _Gone With the Wind_ fame. Rhett always had monogrammed handkerchiefs. It's just what the well dressed, well prepared gentleman does, and who is better dressed and prepared than Chuck Bass?

I've always wanted to do a scene where Chuck makes breakfast for Blair. Chuck just strikes me as the kind of person who observes people and situations and learns from them; hence, his unexpected culinary skills. Who knows what else he can do? Who knows what else Chuck and Blair might discover about themselves and each other on their getaway? Stay tuned!

Special thanks to Chrys1130, Shrk22, Almaloney33 and Chairship for being my beta buddies. They are great ladies, all of them!

Thank you, dear readers, for taking the time to read and respond. You are appreciated!

Xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

_Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck tried to tell Blair how he feels about her, but since he couldn't put it into words, he ended up inviting her to go away with him to a mystery destination for spring break._

Chapter 13

"Come on, Chuck," Blair wheedled. "At least give me one hint where we're going."

The "Fasten Seatbelts" indicator light had just gone out on the Bass company jet, yet she still had no idea where they were going to spend their spring break.

"Elementary, my dear Waldorf," Chuck took great pleasure in drawling, "we are going exactly where you requested." He moved over from the black leather club chairs they had been in for takeoff to the overstuffed grey sofa that was placed horizontally against the wall. She followed suit.

A female cabin steward entered with a tray with a single glass of scotch on the rocks. "For you, Mr. Bass. And for the lady?"

"I'll have Perrier, please," Blair had no problem responding for herself.

"And a blanket too. Miss Waldorf likes to stay warm, and she may wish to take a nap before we land. We won't be requiring anything else." The dismissal was polite but firm.

The steward returned promptly with the requested items and then disappeared into the front cabin, leaving Chuck and Blair all alone.

She took a sip of her sparkling water as she studied his smug expression. "Hmm, there must be something I can do to pry some information out of you." She placed the glass on a nearby table. "I seem to recall when we were little, that you were very…," she unbuttoned his suit jacket and launched herself on top of him, "ticklish!"

"And you would be misremembering that, Waldorf," he taunted, seemingly unfazed, "because the ticklish one was you!" He flipped her then and began tickling her sides in earnest. "I see nothing has changed." It wasn't strictly true; back then, she hadn't possessed those mesmerizing curves and the movement of her body against his hadn't produced such delicious friction.

She squealed and giggled until she lost her breath. "You're not fighting fair!" she accused. "But that doesn't matter; I can fight dirty too." Her stockinged legs came around him and she pulled him even closer, brushing her lips against his neck.

Oh, God, no. Not the neck. He couldn't resist that. It was his kryptonite.

Somehow she knew that—and was trying to kiss him there again.

He would resist! He would fight! He would…tilt her chin up and draw that full lower lip into his mouth and taste it, lick it…

She let out a sound that was part purr/part moan, and he forgot everything other than that he needed her to make that sound again. He needed her to never stop making that sound.

It was some time later when, wrapped up in the blanket and each other, he thought she might actually be catnapping when she demanded in an unsteady voice, "Are you ready to surrender now?"

He chuckled, "I thought I just did."

"No, I meant are you going to tell me our destination now?"

"If you want another clue, look out the window," he suggested.

She pulled up the sash on one of the windows behind them. "I see water. It's…an island?"

He nodded.

"We've only been in the air for a few hours now," she mused, "so it must be in the Atlantic or the Caribbean?"

"Exactly. One of those."

"Bass, you're not being helpful at all!"

"On the contrary, I think I've been extremely helpful," his lips drew up in a secret smile that only she had the privilege of seeing.

"And how is that?" Her tone was rich in sarcasm.

"Well, I did ensure your membership in the Mile High Club, didn't I?"

She gave him a playful slap, but didn't resist when he drew her closer and kissed her again. In a matter of milliseconds, he could feel a smile start and spread across her lips. Then she was kissing him passionately.

Membership did have its privileges.

* * *

Once they deplaned, Blair took a look around and smelled the air. She'd learned their destination when they had to fill out immigration forms and Chuck had been honest: it was an island and the temperature was absolutely perfect. The air was breezy and only slightly humid, carrying with it the scents of tropical plants, Caribbean cuisine and impending excitement.

Before long, they were comfortably ensconced in the back of a town car, on their way to the resort.

Blair couldn't stop looking out the windows at the changing scenery. The city gave way to more sparse buildings and homes, then to winding roads through green hills and open fields. She never let go of Chuck's hand, squeezing it with enthusiasm when something along the way caught her fancy.

"Mm, what is that sweet smell?" she asked as they passed by fields with tall green plants and a number of workers cutting down them down.

"I think it's sugar cane," Chuck offered. "Sugar is one of their major exports. Sugar and rum."

"Are you disappointed it's not scotch? Too bad there's not an island for that," she teased.

"Oh, there is, but it's called Scotland. I'm not worried; I'm sure the resort will have everything we need."

"You said this is Bass Industries' newest resort?"

"It is. We've only had it a month or so. My father hasn't even been down here yet. When he learned I was coming, he asked me to scout out the place and report back with comments and suggestions. So I'll have to mix some business with our pleasure, I'm afraid," he confessed.

"I'm sure we'll be able to achieve just the right balance," she whispered before offering her lips to his.

A half hour drive later, they reached the coast and were pulling into the secured front gate of the resort. They barely had time to get out of the car before a smartly dressed young woman with a clipboard was at their side.

"Mr. Bass, Ms. Waldorf, it is my very great pleasure to welcome you." Her voice was laced with the music of an island accent. "Would you like to see your villa now?"

Their villa was a free-standing cottage decorated in the Spanish style with white stucco walls and a cheerful red tile roof. The interior was easily over a thousand square feet. They entered into a lounge with an overstuffed sofa and comfy furniture that included a bistro dining set. A flat-screen TV hung on the wall and a wet bar ran along one wall. Another wall provided windows with a stunning ocean view.

If the lounge area was nice, the bedroom was breathtaking. A four-poster king size bed dominated the sunny yellow room. The posts were elaborately carved mahogany and supported rails that were hung with white net curtains. The en suite bathroom was lushly appointed with dual vanity sinks, a walk-in rain shower, and a sunken Roman tub with whirlpool jets that was accented by a skylight overhead.

The bedroom opened onto a veranda with a garden view and their own private pool with a waterfall at one end.

And just when it couldn't seem to get any better, the resort representative was introducing their personal butler and discussing 24-hour room service.

Once their butler had unpacked for them and they were alone again, Blair sank down into the downy bedding and sighed. "Oh, Chuck, I could spend our entire vacation right here in this villa."

"It's not without its allure," he agreed, sprawling out beside her. "But I was thinking we'd explore the resort and its amenities and get that out of the way."

She sighed again. "If we must, we must."

"I promise the bed, the bath and the pool will still be here when we get back. And who knows what we'll discover in the meantime? Besides, I kind of want to check things out before they realize who my father is and start treating me differently."

They were interrupted by a discreet knock at the door. A uniformed steward had arrived with a bottle of champagne on ice and a box of fancy chocolates.

There was a card. "Congratulations on your new life together?" Blair read quizzically.

"Well, this is the honeymoon suite," Chuck explained.

She blushed and they grinned at each other.

Under the guise of checking out rooms for some friends, Chuck and Blair were shown various levels of accommodations, though none as luxurious as their own. Chuck took notes and Blair took pictures in preparation for Chuck's report to his father.

Then they visited the activities desk. Land sports like tennis, volleyball and golf were offered, along with a selection of water and boating activities. There was a list of day trips and nearby attractions to visit as well.

"Still want to hole up in our room now?" Chuck teased.

"Maybe later. I wouldn't say no to a game of tennis right about now. It would be good to stretch our legs after so much sitting today."

"Are you feeling lucky today, Waldorf?"

"It just so happens I am. Besides, Gossip Girl claims you are not at all athletic," she taunted.

"But you and I both know that's not exactly true, remember?" He winked at her.

"Care to put your money where your mouth is, Bass?"

"I'd rather put my mouth where your mouth is, Waldorf."

Okay, now she was suddenly breathless and had forgotten what she was saying.

"But I wouldn't say no to a little wager." Oh, good, he could still talk.

"Name your terms," she managed to say.

"Loser serves as the winner's slave for the rest of the day," he proposed.

"Done!" She stood close to Chuck, holding up her camera. "Smile, Bass, because you're not going to be so cheerful once you're waiting on me hand and foot."

"I'll just think of all the things you can do for me once I win." He smirked, but when the shutter clicked, they were both sporting genuine smiles. It was the first time they had taken a selfie together, the first time they felt free to hold hands in public. It was a heady and thrilling thing.

Chuck narrowly won their first match, which prompted Blair to campaign for "best of three."

Then Blair won the second.

Suddenly everything was riding on the third round. They were tied when Blair won what she thought was the winning point…only to discover her foot was out of bounds and the point would not count. In vain did she argue. She was still protesting when Chuck scored the tie-breaking point and they went back to their villa…

And he threw her in the pool.

She spit and sputtered…and eventually gave up. "Give me a hand?" she held up an arm and gave him her best doe eyes.

Chuck Bass could turn down a great many things, but Blair's doe eyes were not among them. When he reached out for her hand, she pulled him into the pool with a splash.

"I always win," she reminded him. "Even when I don't."

He splashed her.

She splashed him right back.

And the fight was on. Soon, their waterlogged clothing began to hamper their ability to move. So the next course of action was obvious: the clothes had to go. Then it was just the two of them swimming in their skivvies with their other clothing floating around them, like playful fish darting through a reef.

Blair paused for a moment, shivering.

"Are you cold, baby?" It meant that much more since Chuck Bass was not big on endearments. Still, the word seemed to slip off his tongue naturally.

She nodded and he pulled her close. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he treaded water to keep them both afloat. His arms encircled her, then found the closure on her bra and released the sodden bit of lace into the water.

"You don't know how glad I am that we have our own private pool," he told her with a kiss.

"Mm, you don't how glad I am to be here with you right now." She was looking right into his eyes as she said it and once again he was under her spell. "You know, when you were running late this morning -," she stopped, unsure how much to say.

"What?" He tucked a wet curl back behind her ear as he waited to hear the rest.

"I—I thought maybe you'd changed your mind…about the trip with me." She couldn't look at him as she said it.

He placed a finger under her chin and turned her face back towards him. The feelings were welling up again. She was doing that thing to his mind, to his stomach, to his heart. "Blair, I want you to know…."

He was out of breath and she was too.

Waiting…

Waiting…

"There's nowhere on earth I'd rather be than right here with you, right now."

As their lips met, the heavens opened and even though the sun was brightly shining, rain clouds began to release torrents of water down on the island. She shrieked and they began to gather their clothing and head for the steps that led out of the pool.

A nice warm shower in the en suite, two cocoas with rum, and a catnap later, Chuck and Blair were stretched out on the magnificent bed.

She released a yawn. "It stopped raining!"

"Some time ago. From what I've been told, it rains here just about every afternoon. Gives everyone a little break."

She spooned back into his arms. "I certainly enjoyed my little break," she purred.

"I'm glad it stopped raining, though; I have plans for our dinner tonight."

"Plans?" her ears perked up. "What should I wear?"

"While I'm tempted to say nothing could improve on what you're wearing now -."

"Which is nothing!" she interjected.

"Since we'll be in public, I'll just tell you to wear something special."

"I think that can be arranged." She smiled at him…

And he forgot to breathe.

The same thing happened later when the bedroom door opened and she walked out into the lounge. She was wearing the red dress again, the one she'd worn the night he'd come to tell her he was her secret admirer. It showcased the ivory silk of her skin, making her signature red lipstick pop. Her hair was pulled up with just a few wispy tendrils resting against her neck and calling attention to the heart pendant necklace he'd given her for Valentine's Day.

Those beautiful dark eyes were watching him, waiting for some reaction, but he couldn't talk, he couldn't even breathe.

"I know you've seen this dress before, but there was the misunderstanding…." She left the "with Nate" unsaid. "So I just wanted to let you know that…without a doubt…tonight…I am dressed up just for you."

His head was full of words, but his tongue managed to get two three-word combinations out: "You are beautiful. I am honored." He kissed both her hands.

She countered with three words of her own that just happened to echo his feelings: "I am hungry."

"We missed lunch."

"I'm not sorry."

"I'm not either." He was still holding her hand. "Shall we then?"

"We certainly shall." She fell into step beside him and they made their way down to the center of the resort complex, her hand still in his and his other arm supporting her back.

They did not stop at the French restaurant or the piano bar, where strains of music could already be heard. Instead, Chuck checked in with one of the staff and soon they were being led down to the beach.

She looked at Chuck with a question in her eyes, but he just smiled back and said, "You will see." Her heels sank into the powdery sand and she held onto his arm tighter to keep her balance.

They rounded the shadows of a small group of palm trees and there it was: a table set with gleaming silver, sparkling crystal stemware and snowy linen. It was lit by candles in the center of the table and a white gloved steward was already there to pour their drinks and take their dinner order. The sound of the tide lapping at the beach, the light from the moon on the water and the twinkling candlelight from the table, the sounds of night on the island…it overwhelmed her.

She was in awe. "This is perfect."

And it was.

* * *

"Wake up, sleepy," the words were whispered against her ear.

"Go away, Chuck. I'm having the most wonderful dream," she confided as she nuzzled against him. "We were on a beautiful island. We played tennis and I crushed you and made you my slave for the rest of the day."

"Oh, is that how it happened?" He couldn't help but smile at her version of events.

"Then we had the most romantic candlelight dinner on the beach and went dancing until the bar closed."

"Blair," he planted little kisses down her neck.

"Hmm?" Was she really sleepy or just swept away?

"All those things happened, more or less—less, if we are talking about your tennis victory-but you have to get up for today's adventures. C'mon, we need to have some breakfast and then I want to take you for a ride."

"I'm sure you do," she said coyly, "but I know from experience that doesn't require me to get up."

"I promise it'll be worth your while. I hear there's an impressive…" he leaned closer and whispered those two words that every girl on a luxury vacation wants to hear: "international buffet."

That did the trick. In short order they were dressed and at the resort's open-air clubhouse checking out the seemingly endless array of breakfast foods.

There was an elaborate display of tropical fruits including whole mangoes and freshly sliced coconut. Sculptures of dolphins, turtles, birds and tropical blooms carved into watermelons accented the buffet tables. There were mountains of muffins, flaky croissants and various breakfast breads. The selection of meats was also impressive. Not stopping with the usual bacon and sausage, it included such exotic choices as curried goat. The cheese table was its own international smorgasbord.

Blair's eyes were huge.

"Impressed?" Chuck raised an eyebrow.

"Very," she responded with a sigh.

"You know, I am starting to think that I can't compete with breakfast for your affections."

She laughed, then perched on tiptoe and kissed him right there, not caring who might see. "Nothing compares to you."

They went through the buffet, discussing some choices and agonizing over others, but ultimately filling their plates and finding a secluded table that overlooked the beach.

"You said you were going to give me a ride. I take it that means we're staying in this morning?" She looked at him over her mimosa.

"For once, Waldorf, my motives are pure. We're going horseback riding."

"Oh, Chuck, I haven't been riding in years!" The delight was evident in her voice.

"I saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw it on the activities list." He sounded just a little smug.

"You see everything," she marveled.

"I only see you, and the view is perfection."

All the way to the horse farm, Blair chattered like an excited little girl about how her father used to take her riding when she was very small. This light, carefree mood was a side of her that their classmates had never seen and Chuck felt lucky to see it and proud that he was responsible for it.

He reminded himself of that when he had to confess he'd never ridden before and allow the horse trainers to choose a docile mount for him and give him some pre-ride instruction. Blair, in the meantime, was literally trotting circles around him, obviously the star student.

"Remember to keep your head up and your heels slightly down. Balance is important, but so is leadership. You are the horse's guide, not the horse's boss. There has to be trust and respect on both sides," the trainer directed.

Chuck looked into the liquid eyes of his jet black horse and decided to break the ice. He brought a cautious hand up and stroked his forelock. "I'm Chuck Bass," he murmured in a tone only he and the horse could hear. "The lovely lady over there on your gray friend is Blair. I would very much appreciate it if you didn't throw me or otherwise embarrass me in front of her." The horse looked back at him and he could swear it winked. Good, they understood each other.

He managed to get into the saddle with little difficulty and soon the riders were heading out, single file, on their adventure. They rode past a sugar cane field, through lush forest, over winding roads and hills and valleys. Blair kept turning around slightly in the saddle and flashing him a smile. She was obviously perfectly comfortable and very happy. He was slightly less so, but who could argue with that infectious expression? He would have braved far more just to keep that smile on her face.

When they got near the beach, the party stopped and dismounted. Their regular saddles were exchanged for special riding equipment for the water.

"We're going in the ocean?" If Chuck thought she couldn't be more delighted, he was wrong. She was beaming.

They rode down the beach first, the horses' hooves slightly sinking into the powdery white sand. The first splash of the water was cold and somewhat jarring, though no doubt soothing to the horses still warm from their overland ride. Down into the water the group descended until the water had risen to cover the riders' legs and the horses' flanks. They changed course then and began to ride parallel to the shore. The power of the majestic animal moving through the waves created the feeling of sailing through the current. The sun shining down and sea spray turning into fine mist in the breeze made for a unique and unforgettable experience.

All too soon, or so it seemed to Blair, their ride was over. She was surprised to learn afterwards that, between the ride on land and through the waves, their experience had lasted for two hours. Once they were back on the beach, the trainers gave the couple sugar cubes to reward the horses. They allowed Chuck and Blair to walk the horses down the beach and cool them down. Eventually, they dismounted, with Chuck helping Blair to the ground before they linked their fingers and led the horses back to the trailer that would transport them back to the stables.

Despite his inexperience and initial hesitation, Chuck found himself almost reluctant to part from his mount. In their short time together, he felt he'd bonded with the animal and that the horse had certainly kept up his end of the bargain in behaving himself. Chuck gave him the last sugar cube in his pocket and patted his mane, silently thanking him before they departed.

They arrived back at the resort just at the tail end of lunch, which happened to be a barbecue on the beach. The delicious aroma of pork and chicken covered in jerk seasoning and being cooked over charcoal fires came wafting on the breeze.

They took their full plates back to the villa and ate outside on their terrace.

"OMG, this tastes even better than it smells. How do they do this?" Blair may have been drooling a little.

"I've heard the punch in the seasoning comes from Scotch bonnet pepper and allspice. Whatever else is in there is a trade secret and varies from island to island and cook to cook."

"Mm, whatever it is, you should learn to make it."

"I'm not your kitchen boy, Waldorf."

She laughed. "Maybe I can persuade you to serve me in other rooms of the house instead?"

"While I would love to take you up on that offer, I need to take you up in another capacity first."

Her nose wrinkled as she tried to decipher his clue.

"You'll see."

Before she knew it, they were at the activities desk signing waivers to go parasailing.

"How exactly does this work, Chuck? I feel like I'm signing too many papers that basically say, 'It's okay if I die doing this'."

"Relax, no one is going to die."

"Are you sure? How much of a good deal did Bart get on this resort?" she gave him the side-eye.

"Not as good as he would've liked, I can assure you. Now do you feel safer?"

"Not yet," she looked nervously at the dock where another couple was ready to depart. "I don't know about this, Chuck."

"It's perfectly safe. See, they go out on the boat. They're in life jackets and harnesses -."

"If you wanted to be restrained, all you had to do was ask. I'd be happy to tie you to that glorious bed in our villa."

"Waldorf, I'm shocked…and a little turned on…but as I was saying, they're attached to parachutes. When the line is released, they ascend slowly into the air, like a kite."

"It seems awfully high," she commented.

"It has to be, so you can see the ocean and the island. It's going to be great."

"Have you ever done this before?" She was still skeptical.

"No, I have chosen to save my parasailing cherry just for you."

She was still watching the other couple dubiously.

"Blair, there's life jackets and harnesses. You are not going to fall. And even if you did, it would be into the ocean with a parachute to cushion your fall. You can't be afraid of heights," he scoffed.

She looked at him evenly.

"How can that be? You adore the Empire State Building. You have ever since we were little," he argued.

"If you'd been paying attention, you would have realized I never stand too close to the railing."

"I always pay attention to you. You, not some railing. You've been up on rooftops with me many times over the years."

"True, but there are brick or concrete walls around the edge of the building, and I don't stand too close," she reminded him.

"We got here on a plane!"

"Exactly, a very well maintained and wonderfully enclosed plane. We'll be up there with our legs dangling in the air!"

"I'm sorry, you lost me at the thought of your legs in the air," he laughed and pulled her in for a kiss. "Blair, do you trust me?" He was looking into her eyes and she couldn't look away.

"I trust you," she whispered, and he couldn't look away.

He kissed her again.

"If you don't want to do this, we don't have to, but if you're willing to brave it for me, I think you will love it."

For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something to him, like it was on the tip of her tongue, but instead she just nodded.

He squeezed her hand. "I'll be right here. I won't let go."

"You better not! And, Bass, if we die up there, I'm going to kill you."

The parasailing couple had returned and they were disembarking, all smiles.

"It'll be just like that for us."

"No one is like us," she snorted, slipping past him to get on the boat.

After getting securely fastened and safety-checked, they were heading out on the water. The boat accelerated and one of the operators released the chute at the rear of the boat. The wind slowly filled and expanded the sails, and then the chute was airborne like a child's kite.

"Are you ready?" the operator asked.

Chuck responded in the affirmative; Blair just gave a nervous nod.

He squeezed her hand again. "It's you and me against gravity. You know gravity has no chance."

They rose a few inches. Then a few more. Blair was holding on tightly to the harness and to Chuck's hand. She closed her eyes tightly.

The operator kept releasing more line and their harnesses followed the chute up into the air. Blair's grip clamped down on Chuck's fingers.

Up…

Up…

Up…

It felt like the wind was pulling them towards the heavens. When they finally reached the maximum height, the feel of the flight changed. It felt like they were soaring and gliding.

"You can open your eyes now, you know," he reminded her gently.

Blair looked down and wiggled her bare toes. The ground and sea seemed very far away, but the view was breathtaking. The Caribbean Sea was a perfectly clear mint green and they could see a sprinkling of little coral reefs near the shore. The lush green of the mountains faded into white powder sand beaches.

"Chuck," she cried excitedly, "I can see our villa!" Her grip loosened a little, but he was pleased she was still holding his hand. "This is amazing!"

She was amazing. She'd been terrified, but now her natural enthusiasm and curiosity were conquering her fear. He wanted nothing more than seeing her continue to triumph, so he kept pointing out different sights on the ground, in the water…all around.

"It feels like we're flying. It's such a rush!"

He wanted to tell her that, for him, more than half the rush came from just being there with her and holding her hand. The view coupled with feeling the sunshine on their faces and the wind in their hair was just icing on the cake.

All too soon, he could feel their harnesses descending, coming closer to the water.

"Chuck, we're nowhere near the boat!"

"Relax, they're just letting us get our feet wet." They grew closer and closer to the warm, clear water until their feet actually skimmed the surface of the water and the spray splashed their legs. He couldn't resist it then, so he leaned close and let his lips brush over hers for the merest second.

Then they were being pulled skyward again, before being slowly reeled back down to the boat.

When they arrived back at the dock, he took her hand and helped her off the boat…and then he didn't let go.

"What a day!" she sighed.

"And it's not even time for the afternoon rain shower," he said in a low voice.

She looked up. Only a few clouds had started to gather in the sky. "I can't wait for the afternoon rain." Her tone was wistful. "I have plans." The seductive note in her voice told him exactly what she had in mind and he couldn't agree more.

"Speaking of plans…," he pulled her into the shade of some palms and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. "I think you'll like tomorrow's adventure."

"And what will that be? Because today will be very hard to top."

"We're going to get lost. Together."

"Mm, sounds intriguing. I'm not going to get any more clues?"

"Probably not, but feel free to try to get something out of me anyway."

"I have no problem tying you to that four-poster bed and torturing you for information. I have ways of making you talk."

"I'm counting on it. And I have ways of making you…," he whispered something very naughty in her ear and laughed when the color rose in her cheeks.

"Race you back to our room?"

She didn't even wait for his answer; she just grabbed his hand and ran.

To Be Continued in Chapter 14

* * *

Author's Note: Wow, when I asked for your ideas on what might be a good destination for Chuck and Blair, you did not disappoint! Responses I received included Fiji, Rio, Paris, Tuscany, England, Bora Bora and the Maldives. I can see Chair at all those locales. I needed, however, somewhere they could get back to Manhattan fairly quickly if needed, so the Caribbean proved to be the most expedient choice. I've also been to the Bahamas and Jamaica several times, so I had some frame of reference on what a Caribbean vacation is like. To be fair, I decided to make it a mystery to all of us. The island Chuck and Blair are on is limited only to the Caribbean and your imagination.

Dinner on the beach was something my husband and I actually did in Jamaica. Ours was more casual and one time a stray cat ended up visiting us under the table. Naturally, we sneaked some scraps to our new furry friend.

My husband went parasailing and loved it. We have some great pictures from his flight. I was too scared to go myself and have secretly regretted it ever since.

We have not gone horseback riding in the ocean, but every time I see pictures or video of that, it just looks glorious and I really want to.

Did you notice that Chuck and Blair's conversation before dinner the first night is made up entirely of 3-word phrases? Alas, not the magic three words. Almaloney33 says she senses "three words bubbling beneath those tropical waters." We shall see.

This vacation is far from over! It was originally intended to be one chapter, but I felt it needed some more room for description, so Chapter 14 will continue the trip. Bon voyage!

Special thanks to Chrys1130, Shrk22, Almaloney33 and the keen eye of Chairship. I appreciate you all more than you know.

To my readers, thank you for coming on this journey with me. I hope you are enjoying their getaway. Drop me a line and let me know what you think. Reviews are like chocolate, but they don't melt in your hand.

Xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck and Blair enjoyed the first two days of their island getaway for spring break, but more adventure awaits….

Chapter 14

Chuck Bass would never tell anyone, but these were some of the moments he loved best. That hazy, half-conscious bridge between sleep and consciousness, when dreams and reality coexisted and anything was possible.

Her presence was like the sunrise: faint glimmers at first, then slowly rising until he was blinded by her brilliance. At first it was just the warm curve of her hip and back melting into his skin, the feeling of wind-tossed dark curls spread across him like a fisherman's net.

Then he could smell the tang of salt on her skin, the lingering echoes of the perfume she'd applied that morning, that magical mix of scents that was only her.

Finally, he could hear and feel the soft whisper of each breath she drew and he knew: this was real, _she_ was real, _they_ were real. He lived for this.

Although he didn't move a muscle, she began to stir at his side. Dark lashes fluttered like butterfly wings and slowly opened to reveal sleepy, midnight eyes. Lips warm from the sun curved into a little smile.

"Mm, how long have we been asleep?"

He had no idea. "That's a very good question." He sat up and reached for the 'desert island' bag, pulling out his waterproof Cartier watch.

He frowned, squinted, then frowned again. "That can't be right."

"What's that?"

"My watch says it's after five o'clock."

"That can't be right," she echoed. "What time were they supposed to pick us up?"

"3:30." He got up and started walking down the beach, scouring the horizon for sight of a boat.

"But we've been right here since well before three! I don't see how they could have missed us." She pulled a gauzy cover-up over her two-piece white bathing suit, wincing as the fabric grazed her tender, overheated skin. "Chuck, do I look sunburned to you?"

He turned his glance from the ocean to her. Her skin was indeed varying shades from light pink to angry tomato. "Oh, God, Blair, didn't you reapply your sunscreen after we went swimming in the lagoon?"

"I asked you to!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Well…, I was going to, but then you were kissing me…and touching me…and I'm lucky I have my suit on at all right now, much less sunscreen."

"We'll get you something to put on that burn, as soon as I can figure out how to get off this island," he grumbled.

"Have you tried calling the resort?"

"There's no cell reception out here. That's the whole point of a Desert Island Adventure."

"You did Blue Lagoon me, Bass, in the best of ways," she smiled.

* * *

 _ **The day before…**_

After their thrilling adventures horseback riding in the ocean and parasailing, they had passed an equally exciting afternoon indoors during the rain showers.

Then Chuck's phone rang and a snafu with some paperwork and permits for Victrola had kept him on the phone with his staff through dinner. Blair had sweetly ordered dinner in for them and then waited until he was free to go out later that evening. "Don't get too used to this, Bass. I'm only doing it because you seem to think I lost the tennis bet and owe you some slave time."

"The truth is always so believable," he remarked dryly. The resort's nightclub was clearly having a big band night as the strains of Glenn Miller's "In the Mood" floated out to greet them.

She pulled him toward the dance floor. "Dance with me."

It was the start of a lovely late evening of dancing and talking. They both tried not to think that in just a couple of days it would be back to the Upper East Side, undercover kisses and hands held under the table only. It made every second that much more precious.

All too soon, the music came to a stop as the bar prepared to close down for the night. As they made their way across the floor, Blair accidentally brushed against the shiny black grand piano. The disturbed keys let out a discordant sound, causing her to jump. His hands encircled her waist to steady her, and she smiled up at him.

"You know, I haven't heard you play in years."

"Sure you have. I played your song for you as soon as I finished it."

"Over the phone. That's not the same as hearing it live."

She wanted a live performance? Here? Now? And then a voice whispered in his head, "Why not?" It wasn't like he was ready for the night to be over anyway.

He sat down on the deserted piano bench, then moved over to make room for her beside him.

He started with a few simple scales, his fingers moving slowly and lightly over the keys, getting to know the instrument and easing into the music. Then the music sped up as he launched into the first strains of his composition.

If listening to it over the phone had been impressive, experiencing it with him was…overwhelming. Seeing the intense look of concentration on his face and watching his fingers fly, swift and sure, over the keys gave a sneak peek into this carefully hidden side of him, another secret they alone shared. It was doing strange things to her heart. She allowed her eyelids to fall closed and the notes of music to wash over her.

When the piece ended, she was looking at him, her heart in her eyes and on the tip of her tongue. A hand came up and stroked his cheek, cupping his jaw, willing him to look at her.

"Chuck, I -."

This was it, he thought, she was going to say it. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. He could wait all night…play all night, if only she would….

Another moment passed.

"You…amaze me," she finally said.

The bitter sting of disappointment was lessened by her pulling his face to hers and trailing little kisses across his cheek before capturing his lips with her own.

Words might fail them, but that didn't mean their feelings did.

They were in the middle of another glorious foray at the breakfast buffet the following morning, when Chuck asked if she was ready for their next adventure.

"Does it involve those yummy chocolate croissants?" she gestured to the pastry table.

"Not exactly, but I'll let my father know the French pastry chef meets your approval," he laughed. "They're taking us to our own deserted island for a few hours, so plan accordingly."

"We're being marooned together? Like in _The Blue Lagoon_?"

"We will have to survive the island and each other for four hours."

"I think we can do that," she gave him a little wink.

The excursion exceeded their expectations. On the way out, they stopped for a snorkeling side trip over a coral reef, floating in crystal clear waters while viewing various fish and underwater plants. Brightly colored tropical fish darted in and out of the reef in the same manner the pair were splashing and floating on the surface of the water.

They arrived at the little island with dreamy eyes and still-damp hair. It looked like a perfect miniature of their island, from the white sand beaches to the wooded hills. Blair's eyes were sparkling; she wanted to explore everything.

Since there was no dock, they were lowered into a small boat a safe distance from the beach and rowed to shore. The boatman gave Chuck a wicker hamper and informed him what time they would be returning.

Then it was just the two of them, the hamper and a small supply kit Chuck had brought along.

"Chuck, who does this island belong to?" Blair asked as they walked along the beach.

"The resort. They use the other side of it a few times a week for a beach barbecue and volleyball for people taking the afternoon cruise. I'm told this side is never used."

"So it really belongs to you?" she clarified.

"No," he said slowly, "today it belongs to us. What do you want to do first?"

She gave him a saucy little smile that left him in no doubt as to what her plans were. And luckily, they were just the same as his. They unpacked the picnic blanket from the hamper and found a semi-shady spot under some palms to christen their temporary home.

After sating their hunger for each other, they indulged in a lazy lunch. The basket was well stocked with French bread, cold chicken, various fruits and cheeses, in addition to bottled water and rum punch.

It was on their walk to explore the island after lunch that they discovered it.

Blair saw it first.

"Chuck, look, there really is a blue lagoon!" She pointed to a small waterfall and the freshwater pool it drained into. "Let's go for a swim." She was already slipping out of her cover-up and into the water.

And then the chill struck. "Brr, this water is freezing! Get in here and warm me up!"

"Your wish is my command."

They splashed and swam, enjoying the water and each other, until they finally got out and made their way back to the beach. The warm sun and the ocean breeze made them warm, dry…and very sleepy. They had slid into slumber only to waken several hours later to discover they were stranded.

* * *

"We can't be stranded. I refuse to believe it." Blair had moved to Egypt and set herself up as queen.

"Well, you can disbelieve all you like. We are, in fact, stuck here."

"Maybe we're not, maybe they're just running late in picking us up?"

"Two hours late?" His eyebrow rose skeptically.

She sighed. "We'll just wait until another boat comes by."

"That could be days! Have you seen another boat since we've been here? Nothing comes to this side of the island. I didn't have to explain this to you earlier when we were on that blanket…."

Blair stared at him with dawning horror. "OMG, this cannot be happening. We'll starve. We'll freeze at night. There are bugs. I could get sand in places…that no one wants to get sand in!" She had gone from denial to panic in mere seconds.

Now that he was faced with the possibility of Blair's head exploding and leaving tiny pieces all over the sand, he found he much preferred her earlier denial. He placed a hand on either side of her face. "Blair, listen to me, we are going to be fine. We will figure this out. Trust me?"

She nodded without hesitation. "What should we do next?"

"Let's gather our stuff and go down the beach toward the other side of the island. I have a lighter in my supply kit. We can start a signal fire. Maybe someone will see it."

"That's a great idea." She began to gather their supplies. They had a plan; they would make it work.

"Any leftovers from lunch?" he inquired.

She opened and hamper and took stock. "Just a little bit of cheese, some grapes and the end of the baguette."

"Well, we won't starve tonight anyway." He started down the beach, with Blair following behind.

They made their way down to the closest point to the main island before gathering sticks and vegetation to build the fire. When it was done, they snuggled next to each other and waited.

"Bass, this whole island survival thing looked a lot easier when Brooke Shields and Christopher Atkins did it."

"Hey, let's not put me in a loincloth yet, Waldorf."

"Quit raining on my fantasy parade," she grumbled. "Hey, do you see that? Is that…?"

"A boat!" he exclaimed. "And I think it's headed our way!"

Salvation arrived in the form of an evening cruise that was headed to a venue called The Cliffside Café. The cruise operators promised to deliver them there and that they would be able to secure transport back to their hotel. All the other cruise-goers whispered and stared at the dark, striking couple that appeared to have washed straight out of the sea and into their boat.

The Cliffside Café had been an island staple for many years and was consistently found on "The Ten Best Bars in the World" list. It had twice been destroyed by hurricanes, yet, like a phoenix from the ashes, it continued to rise and thrive. It was equally renowned for its impressive dinner menu and even more impressive cliff diving opportunities. Screams from the intrepid jumpers and cheers from the huge crowd of spectators could be heard the second Chuck and Blair disembarked at the low pier and made their way up several flights of steps cut into the rock. By the time they reached the restaurant/bar area at the top, it was almost deafening. And it wasn't even peak dinner time yet.

They had planned on immediately getting transportation back to the resort, but the whole 'getting stranded' situation seemed to call for a stiff drink, and then one drink called for one more…and then Chuck decided they'd better stay for dinner, which smelled mouthwatering. He left Blair at a tiny table on the concrete terrace and went inside to see how they might order dinner and then be returned to their hotel.

When he returned a few minutes later, Blair was deep in conversation with someone standing next to their table. He took a moment to appreciate the picture she made: flushed face, eyes sparkling, dark hair waving down her back, lacy cover-up skimming the curve of her hip and the creamy skin of her thighs before showcasing surprisingly long legs. She wasn't wearing makeup or a designer dress, but she didn't need to be. She was easily the most beautiful woman there; he didn't even have to look at anyone else to know that.

And apparently Chuck was not the only club guest who thought so. The guy talking to Blair was in his late 20s with dark blond hair and piercing green eyes. No doubt he'd scoured the whole venue and decided Blair was the only one here deserving of his attentions. His shirt was expensively tailored and open at the neck, and his manner could only be described as smooth.

Chuck drew close enough to hear him speak. "So if you're looking for a friend or a refill on that drink…."

That was enough. He was at her side in three strides with his hand coming up to rest protectively between her shoulder blades. "She has a friend." The firm tone, the hard glare, the possessive body language…it should have been enough to send Mr. GQ on his way.

It wasn't.

The blond man looked Chuck over thoroughly and clearly judged him inferior, from his young age to his slightly disheveled hair to his currently less than crisp collar points. "I just thought a lovely lady like yourself," he smiled at Blair again as his eyes lingered on her legs, "might be looking for more mature company."

Chuck's blood began to boil and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists at his side. In a world that classified men as either lovers or fighters, Chuck would have normally put himself into the first camp. But so help him, if that blond bastard so much as looked at his Blair like that again, he was going to knock him down and throw him over the side of the cliff. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

And now it was time to take out the trash.

He turned to Blair, "I'm sorry that took so long, darling, I wanted to get us a private cabana for dinner." He turned back to the visitor, "Thank you for keeping my wife company while I was gone. She's so beautiful she attracts attention, sometimes unwanted," he said with an edge, "everywhere we go."

"Wife?" Goldilocks had already started backpedaling and was now looking back at his crowd of friends longingly.

"Isn't this the perfect place for a honeymoon, sweetheart?"

Blair enthusiastically nodded.

"Um, congratulations," their guest muttered in disgust and began to walk away.

Blair gave him a sweet smile and a little wave as he left.

Once in their cabana, Chuck thrust a drink and a menu into her hand and sat down. "I can't believe that guy thought he had me outclassed."

Blair's smile turned to a smirk. "Ah, yes, but you had him outBassed." She giggled. "I thought for a minute you were going to hit him."

"Because I was," Chuck ground out.

She drew closer to him. "Well, I'm glad you didn't." Then she whispered in his ear, "But…it was kind of hot. You've never done anything like that before."

"I would've done far worse," he whispered back to her, "to protect what's mine."

"Am I…yours?" She almost didn't trust her voice to speak.

Then the server arrived to take their order and the moment was lost. Alone again, they nursed their third drinks.

And that was when Blair got the idea.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Most ideas that come after three drinks do.

So she couldn't help but blurt it out to him.

"Chuck?" She was almost whispering in his ear again.

"Hmm?"

He was kissing her neck and she was losing her thoughts, her focus, her mind. She swallowed hard and tried to remember what she was saying. "This is supposed to be our honeymoon, right?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"So I think we should do something crazy together, something we'll always remember…. Let's jump off the cliff!"

"What?!" Whatever he'd been expecting she would say, this was not it. "But, Blair, you're afraid of heights, remember?" How could she have forgotten that?

"Blair Waldorf is afraid of heights, yes, but when I'm with you, I'm not afraid of anything!" she declared in a loud voice. She stood up and stripped off her cover-up.

"Blair, this is not a good idea. This is just the rum punch talking." He should've known Blair was not used to drinking like this.

She took off towards the line that had formed at the edge of the cliff, Chuck trailing behind her.

"Blair, wait -!"

"Chuck, this has been the most wonderful week of my life, and I want to celebrate it…with you." Her eyes were shiny-whether from the three rum punches or her sincerity, he couldn't tell, but the way she was looking at him and the crazy effect it was having on his heart told him that before long they'd be plunging into fifteen feet of cold water in the cove.

"I have one condition…well, two. First, there's a fifteen-foot cliff and a thirty-foot cliff. I say we do the lower one."

"Okay," she agreed just a little too easily, looking somewhat relieved.

"And second, you have to hold my hand and not let go."

"I couldn't think of doing this if I didn't," her voice was serious now, and sounded stone cold sober. Then she broke into a fit of giggles. "We can do this, Bass. It's us against the world."

A few minutes wait in line and a signed waiver later, they were standing together at the edge of the lower jump. Even though it was only half the height of the taller jump, the view down the rocky cliffs into the dark blue water looked intimidating. There was no parachute, no safety net. They might very well remember this for the rest of their lives because their lives might be over if they landed wrong.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

"You didn't have to be jealous up there, you know, because…"

"Because?"

"Because I am yours and you are mine." She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Suddenly, it didn't matter so much if there were rocks, choppy water and no parachute. He was doing the most dangerous thing just being here, being with her, feeling all these things he felt. A few rocks and a fall were not going to scare him.

He was ready.

The crowd counted to three.

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

And they took the leap together, screaming each other's name on the way down.

The force of their bodies landing in the cold water was a shock to the system and a rush all at the same time. Still holding hands, they made their way to the cliff steps and bowed to the loudly applauding crowd.

Staff arrived with warm towels and to let them know their dinner was waiting. Blair eagerly dove into her steamed snapper and shrimp with seasoned vegetables, while Chuck savored the broiled lobster and filet mignon with mashed sweet potatoes. It was so delicious that they ended up sharing their dishes and trying everything.

They were on vacation; normal rules of civilization need not apply. So of course they ordered dessert as well. The banana rum cake topped with ice cream, rum sauce and whipped cream was the perfect ending to the perfect meal.

Blair sat back with a sigh. "My mother would think I am totally out of control with my eating."

Chuck's eyes flashed to her face. "But what do you think? What would your therapist think?"

"I think it's permissible to enjoy my vacation and all it has to offer. Dr. Maloney just stresses that I stay on program regardless of how I feel at any particular moment."

"How do you feel at this particular moment?"

"I feel happy." Those three words set loose the butterflies again. "Because of you." And then they began to swarm in his stomach.

It was the perfect moment to say something, to articulate just how he felt. But like little butterflies, the words lighted just out of reach and he felt as if he was chasing them around and they were eluding his grasp. He took her hand and kissed it instead.

He was still holding it sometime later when they arrived back at their villa. He unlocked the door with the key card and she prepared to go inside…until he stopped her with a kiss and swept her up into his arms and carried her across the threshold.

She studied his face.

"It is our honeymoon, after all," he drawled and it took her breath away.

He was joking, she knew, just like he had been back at the café. But she couldn't control the fluttery way he made her feel, so she looked away to try to hide it.

"Do you want to shower before bed?"

"Sure, I'll just be a couple of minutes."

He was surprised when she never joined him, but he understood when he came out in his robe to find her curled up in a little ball on the bed, fast asleep and still wearing her bathing suit. He smiled and nudged her gently towards the center of the bed before wrapping himself around her and placing a trio of goodnight kisses across her shoulder. He had a feeling they would both sleep well tonight.

Chuck awoke as the sun was beginning to rise to find Blair gone. He squinted and was able to make out her form stretched out on the far edge of the bed. She had removed her bathing suit top and her shoulders were shaking.

Was she…crying?!

He reached out to touch her shoulder, only to have her withdraw swiftly and cry harder.

"Blair…sweetheart…what's wrong? Why are you crying? Are you in pain?"

"I hurt all over. It's this sunburn. Just look at me!" she started to roll over towards him and then stopped. "No, don't, I'm all red and splotchy and it hurts to even move."

"Why didn't you say something? We can call the medical station. Let's do that right now. They can get you some ointment and something for the pain."

"But I've ruined our vacation," she sobbed. "I can barely move. Even the part in my hair is sunburned. I'm not going to be able to do anything. Do you want to go home early? Maybe the jet could pick us up later today…."

"No," he was firm, "we are not going home early. I think a visit to the med station and the spa will help you feel better, but even if you decide to stay in today and tomorrow before we leave, that's fine by me."

"But we've been doing so many things…."

"Some of the best things we've done have been right here in this room," he reminded her.

"I'm going to slow you down. You're going to be bored with me." She was still distraught. "Wait, why are you laughing?"

"Blair, before we left for the trip…the reason I was late to the airport was because my father stopped by my suite. He wanted to ask me about checking this place out and he wanted to warn me that you'd be seeing all of me, all the time, on this trip…and you might not like what you saw, it might change your feelings. I almost didn't come."

Her response was instant. "That's crazy! Chuck, your father is an idiot. If anything, this trip has made my feelings even stronger." She kissed him as if to reaffirm her words. "I'm glad you changed your mind and came anyway."

"I am too. And I don't care what we're doing or not doing. I have you; that's all I need."

Her eyes searched his face. "Are you sure?"

The kiss he gave provided his answer.

Blair took a cool shower while Chuck called room service and ordered breakfast. Along with the usual breakfast fare, he made sure to request those chocolate croissants she loved so much. They ate on their terrace before venturing out to the resort's medical station.

"Miss Blair is very lucky she did not get sun poisoning," the nurse told them. "Our tropical sun is stronger than the sunshine where you live. Here," she handed Blair a packet, "take these pain relievers as needed, put on the aloe cream and stay out of the sun today. You should feel better soon."

Blair did indulge in the cooling facial and sunburn rescue treatment at the resort's spa and by noon she was indeed feeling much better. Nonetheless, they stayed in for the afternoon and worked on Chuck's report to his father regarding the resort and its services.

"Since it's our last night, do you want to go down to the beach for dinner again? Do you feel up to it?"

There was no way she could miss that, and the pair luxuriated in another candlelit meal on the powdery sand.

They walked through the gardens after, stopping to listen to the music coming from the piano bar. It was Karaoke Night and tonight's selections were all romantic classics and standards.

"Are you feeling adventurous tonight, Waldorf?"

She gave him the side eye. "Define adventurous."

"Will you go in there and sing with me?"

"Come on, Chuck, we both know you are the musically talented one of us."

"You have a perfectly lovely singing voice. Unless you're afraid…and then I just need to get some liquor in you. You're quite daring after your third rum punch."

She had the grace to blush at his reminder. "Fine, we'll go," she acquiesced. "What shall we sing?"

"Let's be classic. How about 'Fly Me To the Moon'?"

She perked up at that. "By Tony Bennett?"

"I was thinking Sinatra, since that is the original and best," Chuck argued.

"I still like the Tony Bennett version best." She was holding her ground.

"Then we'll have to create a version that surpasses them both and becomes your new favorite."

All too soon, they were standing by the piano with all eyes turned in their direction.

The music started….

 _Fly me to the moon._ (They sang together.)

 _Let me play among the stars._ (Chuck took the first line before they began to alternate.)

 _Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars._ (Blair was nervous, but gaining confidence with every note.)

 _In other words, hold my hand._ (She cheerfully obliged.)

 _In other words, baby, kiss me._ (He swept her into a grand old-style Hollywood dip that lasted through the break until the second verse.)

 _Fill my heart with song._ (He took up his line again.)

 _Let me sing forevermore._

 _You are all I long for, all I worship and adore._ (It was more than lyrics he was singing to her.)

 _In other words…_ (He left the line dangling just for her.)

 _Please be true._ (She was more than ready to pick it up.)

 _In other words…_

 _I love you._ (She was looking at him as she sang the words, and suddenly, maybe more than anything in his whole life, he wanted her to be saying and not just repeating those three words to him.)

Maybe she wasn't saying it right now, but maybe soon….

Maybe.

The lyrics replayed in his head as the verse repeated…

When they went back to their room…

When they made love slowly and gently so he wouldn't hurt her poor inflamed skin…

When they listened to the waves lap the beach and waited for sleep to come…

When they awakened in the morning and tried to take a last look at everything they loved at the resort, like a mental picture postcard of their magical getaway.

It was still in his mind when they were at the airport waiting for the jet to arrive. An elderly couple he recognized as fellow guests at the resort passed by and smiled.

They were almost out of earshot when the lady said to her husband, "Oh, darling, that was that sweet young couple from the hotel. They must have been on their honeymoon. I don't think I've ever seen a couple more in love."

Chuck froze.

In love?

 _In love?!_

Was that what this was? This crazy mix of respect, attraction, admiration, trust, desire and addiction, all wrapped up with a shiny kilig bow?

He'd never believed in it before, had always figured it was just a polite term for the human race's base desires.

In love.

They were just two words, but they somehow explained everything.

Chuck Bass was in love with Blair Waldorf.

Now the words were in his mind, there was no denying them, no keeping them in. He wanted to tell her; he wanted to tell the world!

Now he knew…and there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

The knowledge hadn't come at an opportune time.

It hadn't come when they'd been soaring over the ocean in a parasail harness, or riding down the beach on a horse, or swimming in a chilly lagoon, or jumping off a cliff, or singing a karaoke duet, or indulging their desire for each other during an afternoon rain.

It had come now instead. What was he supposed to do, turn to her in mid-flight and say, "I've just realized that I am in love with you and I don't know what comes next"?

No, she was too special for that. His first declaration of love would have to be special too.

The weight of this pressed on his mind, along with return of the real world, where there were homework assignments to do, clubs to manage, parents to please, and secrets to be kept hidden.

They both grew quieter as New York drew ever closer. They didn't even say a word when Arthur picked them up at the airport and began the drive through the city. It was dark and cold and they huddled close, fingers laced together for warmth.

When the limo stopped in front of Blair's building, they looked at each other in panic. There was so much to say, so much to feel. It could not be over. They held each other tighter.

Blair was the first to disengage. She looked up at him, dark eyes shining with imminent tears. And then she said the three words she hoped he wanted to hear.

"One more night?"

"One more night," he whispered back.

They were now one step closer to another three words.

To Be Continued in Chapter 15

* * *

Author's Note: Sadly, all good vacations must come to an end. Even though their getaway is over, however, more drama awaits—hopefully not from Dorota catching Blair sneaking Chuck upstairs!

I've always loved stories of Chuck and Blair getting marooned together, like _Castaways_ by Isabelle and my friend svenjen's _CB and The Blue Lagoon_ and _Displaced_. If you're not ready for Chuck and Blair to leave their island, reading those stories will extend the trip.

The Cliffside Café is modeled on Rick's American Café in Negril, Jamaica. My husband and I actually took an evening cruise to get there and enjoyed watching the intrepid/insane cliff divers. Ancient Xana of the Old Forest had requested a "crazy act" and frankly I could think of nothing crazier than that, though I did consider a more madcap karaoke duet or some silliness with straw hats. Ultimately, nothing topped cliff diving to me.

Within a 24-hour period, both Ishi and Chrys expressed a wish for Jealous!Chuck, so I had to oblige and had great fun doing so. Thank you both.

Blair was lucky she only got a bad sunburn. On my honeymoon in the Bahamas, I managed to break a finger falling by the pool and get sun poisoning all in the same day. The sun poisoning was miserable. I was a very sick girl. I couldn't put poor Blair through that.

Research is hard. Case in point: I couldn't understand why I kept getting videos of the 3 Little Pigs when I put "Big Band" into a search on YouTube. Oops, I had actually typed "Big Bad." It's not the same.

Thank you to Chrys1130, Almaloney33, Chairship and Shrk22 for their beta assistance. Special thanks also to Ishi, Xana and all the other lovely reader-reviewers who gave me such great ideas and encouragement.

So what did you think, dear reader? Did you enjoy the second half of the trip? Now that Chuck has decided he is in love with Blair, what's going to happen next? Who's going to say those three little words first? Drop me a line and let me know your thoughts.

For my _Gilded Cage_ readers, I plan on working on the next chapter of that soon.

Until next time,

Xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck and Blair's Caribbean break came to a glorious end and Chuck decided that "in love" was the perfect way to describe how he felt. Now what?

Chapter 15

Early dawn on the Upper East Side was a far cry from a sleepy sunrise in the Caribbean.

There would be no slow ascent into consciousness for them today, not with the very real threat of the descent of an infuriated Dorota and their first day back to school.

Break was over, but Chuck didn't want it to be. His only thought was how much he loved the warm bundle in his arms. He wanted to awaken Blair, to see her eyes open and lock on his, and then to brush a wavy lock away from her face and kiss those soft pink lips. Then he would say it: those three all-important words, and she would…

What would she do?

Say them back and passionately kiss him once more?

Or would she pretend she hadn't heard them?

He had to believe she felt it too. On their holiday, she herself said she'd never felt closer to him. And he felt the same way.

Now that he knew he loved her, he wanted, needed to tell her.

But it had to be special. He wanted her to feel the words, not just hear them.

And now he had to go. He'd already stayed longer than was sane or wise. He had no doubt if Dorota wandered in and discovered him here right now, his body would be later found floating in the Hudson River.

But it was still so damn hard to leave.

Slowly, carefully, he tried to ease away from her. He pried his arms from her sleeping form and slid a seemingly safe distance away. But he couldn't resist taking a last look at her beautiful face.

The temptation was too great then; he had to kiss her.

He bent over and brushed her lips with his, a feather-light touch that for all its gentleness lacked none of its usual magic.

I love you.

He mouthed the words, almost against his will. He'd never said the words before and had never expected to. But despite the fear and risk—he'd only ever risked so much when she learned he was her secret admirer—it felt completely natural and right.

She stirred then and rolled over to be closer to him, murmuring something unintelligible.

His heart stopped. He was terrified, hopeful, and finally resigned when it appeared she was simply falling back asleep.

It wasn't time. They didn't need to rush. They had all the time in the world.

He fumbled in her nightstand for a pen and paper to leave her a note. He hastily penned a few words, then folded the paper and placed it under her hand.

When he slipped out of the room and stole down the back stairs, he was already counting down the minutes until he saw her again.

* * *

"Miss Blair, you look sunburnt. How you get sunburn in Hamptons with Miss Serena?"

Blair sighed and rolled her half open eyes. As she went to sit up, her fingers found the folded note and slid it surreptitiously under her pillow. "If you must know, Dorota, we went sailing, and it's windburn, not sunburn."

"Your skin look flushed all the same," Dorota grumbled. "You get up and have some breakfast."

"Please tell me there's something caffeinated in that carafe."

"Non-fat latte and fruit, just how you like it."

How she really liked her breakfast was in bed with Chuck and a basket of chocolate croissants, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Reality called.

She sent Dorota to select today's uniform accessories from her closet and sneaked a peek at Chuck's note:

 _Parting is such sweet sorrow. We won't be apart much longer. I'll see you at school, C._

His words spurred her on. She arrived at school with a smile on her face and a spring in her step, her eyes subtly scanning for the face she wanted most to see.

"B!"

The face she found was not the one she was looking for. Suddenly, Blair was embraced by a whirlwind of boho accessories, tousled blonde locks and a smile worthy of a tooth whitening print ad. Hurricane Serena had touched down.

"What are you looking for?" Serena had already noticed Blair's scan of the crowd.

"What? Nothing. Just somewhere to freshen my lipstick." She backed up her reply by ducking into the nearby ladies room and whipping out her signature lipstick.

"I've missed you so much, B! How was Milan with your mom?"

"Oh, you know, if you've seen one fashion capitol of the world, you've seen them all. Lots of fabric swatches, sample sizes, the usual." Blair blotted her lips with a tissue.

"But you look sunburned. I thought it rained last week in Milan?"

The faint tinge of pink in Blair's complexion grew more pronounced. How on earth would Serena know that? Was she practicing to be some weather girl on a cable news network?

"Well, obviously there was enough sun for my face."

"And your hands and…is that a tan?"

"What?!"

"You weren't in Milan with your mother, were you, B? Where were you? The only other person I've seen sporting a tan around here is Chuck…."

Blair's face completely reddened at this observation. Serena's went pale.

"Oh my God, Blair, did you really go away on spring break with Chuck?!" her voice rose with every word.

"Shh!" Blair dragged her to the back corner of the restroom. "Not so loud. What if I did?"

"What would Nate say? What would your secret admirer say?"

Blair gave her a pointed look.

"Oh my God, your secret admirer is…CHUCK?!" She was aghast.

Blair shushed her again and nodded in confirmation. It might be comforting for their secret to actually be out to someone.

"Oh, no, no, no, no! Blair, you have to put a stop to this right now." So much for the comfort of a secret shared. "If he's pursuing you, you know he's only after one thing. Once he gets that, he'll move on so fast it'll make your head spin."

"He hasn't yet," she pointed out quietly.

"You slept with him?! What were you thinking?!" She let out a sound of disgust. "I thought you were waiting. I thought you wanted it to be special…." Serena's world was well and truly rocked by this revelation.

"It was special…perfect even. The first time and every time after." Serena didn't know whether to be more shocked by Blair's confession or the dreamy tone in her voice.

"I can't believe he would do this. This is low, even for Chuck. I suppose he thought he could just spritz on some cologne and use that secret admirer shtick and you'd be his for the taking."

"It's not cologne; he smells incredible…."

"Stop, stop! Spare me the lust-filled ramblings about his natural musk. This is Chuck Bass we are talking about here. Our friend. Nate's best friend. You're a relationship girl, Blair. Chuck does not do girlfriends…or any girl more than once, for that matter."

"This is different, you'll see." Blair sounded calm and confident—and that in itself was scary.

"I just don't want to see you get your heart broken," she tried a gentler approach.

"You mean like it was when you and Nate were together at the Shepherd wedding?" Blair's tone was tart.

"I've told you how sorry I am about that, but I can't go back and fix that. You can fix this. Break it off with him, Blair, before it's too late," she pleaded.

Give up Chuck?! Was she insane? "You don't understand, Serena; it's different, for both of us. I am not breaking up with him."

They were interrupted by chimes signaling the start of morning classes.

Saved (or thwarted?) by the bell.

* * *

"I'm in love with Blair." It was so much easier to say if she wasn't in the room.

The female who was in the room looked up in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

He repeated the declaration, and Dr. Jessica Gold smiled.

"I take it that your vacation went well then?"

"Even though I almost didn't go."

"Why? What happened?"

"My father. He paid me a little visit before I left. Apparently he approves of Blair, because of possible business and social connections with her mother."

"Well, that's something at least."

Chuck frowned. "But I don't care about any of that with her…and I don't want her to think I do."

"Surely you've spent enough time together that she knows that?"

"I would hope so, but my father warned me to be careful around her."

"Is he afraid she might get pregnant?" It was honestly the only reason that came to Jessica's mind.

"He thinks she'll see…me…the real me…and be repulsed."

Jessica bit back her shock. What kind of father said these things to his son? "Did you believe that?"

"It was a concern," he admitted. "Like I said, I almost didn't go."

"But you ultimately did. What convinced you?"

"Blair. She sent me a little gift and a note saying she was looking forward to our trip. And…I had to go."

She nodded. "You're used to being very solitary when you aren't with a group of friends. Was it difficult at any point to be with another person so much? Did it ever feel like too much to you?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't enough. When I dropped her off last night, I ended up staying with her."

"And today?"

"It was hard being apart and going back to being together in secret again." So hard that they'd skipped out early for a rendezvous in the costume closet of the drama department. He'd almost been late for his appointment with Dr. Gold and, despite the fact he'd removed all traces of her lipstick, he could still taste Blair's mouth on his lips. They'd promised to meet up at his suite later that evening and it couldn't come soon enough for him.

"When we last met, you were struggling with how to best define your feelings for Blair. When did you come to that realization?"

"It was something someone said about us at the airport, before we boarded to come home."

"What did they say?"

"The lady said she'd never seen a couple more in love. Then everything made sense."

"Have you told Blair yet?"

"Not yet. Actually, I've been hoping she would tell me," he confessed uncomfortably. He told Dr. Gold more about the trip, their activities and all the little moments. "But I don't think I can wait much longer." He'd almost told her this morning and it was even worse this afternoon. Tonight just might be the night.

Jessica couldn't help but smile. He had so much love to give.

"With you and Dr. Maloney…who said it first?"

"She did," the answer popped out before Jessica could stop it. Therapists were supposed to be careful not to reveal their own stories and feelings. It was, after all, all about their clients, but she'd been so lost in thought that her guard was down. There was something about Chuck Bass…something extraordinary.

"But I said it right after. It was like she read my mind." Her thoughts went back to the argument she and Allison had when Allison announced she was resigning from her teaching position at the university. Jessica had been vehement that her lover not sacrifice her career over their relationship. In their case, those three words had changed their lives for the better and Jessica couldn't help but be grateful.

With a start, she realized they were both out of time and that Chuck was looking at her expectantly.

"Love is a gift, Chuck. Try not to focus on what happens after you say the words. Remember, all acts of intimacy are acts of courage."

He nodded. This was Blair. He was willing to strip himself bare for her in every sense of the word.

He was already thinking about seeing Blair tonight when he exited Dr. Gold's office.

* * *

The sun had set and several hours passed before he finally heard that knock on his suite door.

At last!

There was a smile on his face as he opened the door...and it immediately fell when he saw who was standing there.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not Blair." There was an edge to Serena's voice.

She knew…and she wasn't here to congratulate him on their newfound happiness. He schooled his face into cold expression. "Pity. Why are you here then?"

She breezed past him and into the suite. "We need to talk." She noticed his robe and the candles already burning by the bed. This was so, so much worse than she could ever have imagined.

"About?" Again, his tone was cool and unconcerned. He was going to make her work for it.

"You need to leave Blair alone." She went straight to the chase.

"You make it sound like I'm harassing her. I can assure you I am not unwelcome." If she could be blunt, then so could he.

"Of course you're not. Sending her little notes, little gifts…all at a time when a romantic like Blair is most likely to buy into that fantasy."

Fantasy? She had no idea what she was talking about. He and Blair didn't need playacting or the plot to some fairy tale or movie script. What they had was real. He was considering how to best defend that to someone who had already made up her mind about them, when Serena continued the attack.

"You seduced her. This is low, Chuck, even for you." There was disgust in her voice. "You knew how important her first time was to her, and you knew she was waiting for Nate. Did you even care? Honestly, Chuck, he's supposed to be your best friend."

Oh-ho, now that was going too far. "Best friend?" he sneered. "Isn't Blair supposed to be yours? I'm sure she was the first thing on your mind when you were alone with Nate at that bar at the wedding."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "I made a mistake, one I've paid for and tried to make up for."

"At least I waited until they were no longer together, which is more than you can say."

"Waited? Exactly how long have you wanted her?"

"How long have you wanted Nate? Because sleeping with your best friend's boyfriend is not your usual MO. You and Blair have always been like sisters. You might fight over things, but Nathaniel is not a toy. Did you ever think that maybe this is the way it's supposed to be: You with Nate, and Blair with me? You should thank me. Blair deserves someone who wants her and cares about her, not someone gazing longingly at you."

This only seemed to upset her further. "Maybe I broke every rule of friendship at that wedding, but when it really mattered, when it counted, I was on Blair's side. Nate and Blair? That's mythic. That's how it was always meant to be. She has her whole life planned with him. There are scrapbooks under her bed about Cotillion, prom, their wedding. What is chemistry compared to that? Why do you think I've always turned Nate down?"

She'd turned Nathaniel down? More than once? Well, this explained her stubborn pursuit of the boy from Brooklyn.

"Plans change," he pointed out. "Have you talked to Blair? What did she say?"

"I can't talk to her right now. She's all starry-eyed over you and how magical and perfect she thinks everything is. But what's going to happen when you get bored and move on? Frankly, I'm surprised it hasn't happened already."

His temper surged. "Why can't you believe that I care about her, that I would never hurt her?"

"Because you're Chuck Bass." She said it quietly and as a matter of fact. "I'm not going to let you break her heart over some game you're playing."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe she's going to break my heart?"

"Do you even have one?"

It was a simple question. It shouldn't hurt so much. But she was someone who'd been his friend for most of his life and she didn't understand. Neither did Nate or his own father. Nobody understood him but Blair. Nobody understood what they had—hell, he was still trying to understand it himself. But one thing was for sure: he was not giving it up.

Serena was still talking. "So, please, Chuck, just drop this thing…."

"I think that's a splendid idea. I'm done with this conversation. Look, Serena, I'm sorry you don't feel like you can be with Nate, but I'm with Blair…and there is no way I am giving her up. So run along and mind your own business." He walked her to the door and closed it behind her.

Outside in the hall, Serena looked around in a daze, unsure what had just happened. That hadn't gone at all like she'd expected. Though it was Chuck Bass – who knew what to expect? All she could do now was hope Blair came to her senses sooner rather than later.

* * *

The way the evening was going, it came as no surprise to Chuck when Blair texted that her mother had arrived home and she would be unable to meet him that night. He turned up the lights, blew out the candles and did some business planning for Victrola before turning in for the night.

Although he had easily ejected Serena from his suite, it was not so easy to dismiss their conversation from his mind. Replaying it over, he had to admit that Serena's words and reaction stung a bit. Hadn't they been friends almost their whole lives? Did she really believe he would hurt Blair? That was crazy. It was Blair, for God's sake. Blair was special – couldn't she see that?

He couldn't wait to see Blair tomorrow. They would discuss Serena's reaction and have a good laugh about it. Maybe no one else understood their relationship, but they did and that was all that mattered. Soon he would say those three words that meant so much and possibly, hopefully she would say them back.

When he got to his locker, there was a note from Blair.

 _Sorry I missed meeting you. Having dinner out with Mother tonight. She's going to London tomorrow, so I'll be all alone after that. Maybe you'll come visit?_

It was signed with a drawing of a little heart and a B.

He comforted himself that she was missing him as much as he was missing her. Soon…soon.

It was the longest day and a half ever. A few glimpses of her at a distance, a brush of their hands in the hall, and a few stolen kisses in the library served only as a tease. His need to see and be with Blair was now monumental.

So when the elevator doors opened in the Waldorf penthouse, he had to force himself to walk out at a normal pace.

That was when he heard the voice…and his own name. He froze, staying around the corner and out of sight.

"Bart Bass came to see me today," Eleanor was saying. Apparently, her departure for London had been postponed, because she was now chatting with Blair at the dining table.

"Oh?" Blair sounded distracted.

"He wants to do some investing in the hope of getting my line in some major department store chains. I'm considering it. He certainly understands business better than Howard Archibald."

There was a pause before Eleanor continued, "Bart tells me that you and Chuck have grown quite close." The rising inflection in her voice indicated the implied question.

"Closer, yes, but we've always been close, Mother, you know that."

"His reputation is terrible. You realize that, I'm sure." Again with the implied question. She was warning Blair to keep away from him?

"Am I supposed to choose whom I associate with based on gossip?" Blair shot back. "I thought lions were unconcerned with the opinions of sheep."

His lips curved into a smile at her words.

"I just don't want you to be hurt." Eleanor was trying another tack.

Blair snorted. Good, she thought that as ludicrous as he did.

"He can hurt your reputation…and your chances of mending things with Nate."

"Nate and I are no longer together." Blair was firm.

"But it doesn't have to be that way. You've always had such dreams and plans for the two of you. I remember those scrapbooks…."

"I still have dreams and plans."

"But you've always loved him. I just don't see how you can claim you don't care about him anymore."

Blair paused for a moment. Chuck imagined she was trying to find some answer to placate her mother that did not involve revealing Nate's activities with Serena.

When she did speak, it was with a sigh. "Of course I love Nate. I will always love him. But there's no point in wishing for things that can't happen."

How could 3 words, 8 letters hurt so much? Of course he'd been expecting "I love you," not "I love him."

Sure, he knew he wasn't good enough for Blair. He didn't need Bart, Serena and Eleanor to drive home that fact. As far as he could see, however, no one was good enough for her, so it was a moot point. But if she still wanted Nate, a future with Nate, then maybe what Serena had said was true. Maybe the gifts and romantic gestures were just a security blanket to console Blair after losing what she really wanted.

Maybe he wanted Blair so much that he'd blinded himself to that possibility. Maybe the love he thought he sensed in her was just a reflection of his own love. It wasn't like Chuck Bass had ever been anyone's first choice - or any choice at all, for that matter.

He'd broken all his own rules for her, and for what? He should've known.

Now he knew how she felt. And he knew what he had to do.

* * *

Blair rapped on the door to Suite 1812 and, unable to wait a second longer, threw open the door and let herself in.

Twenty-four hours ago, he would have interpreted that impatience as excitement over seeing him. A lot can change in a day.

"Chuck!" she rushed up to him and threw her arms around him, her face already lifted for a kiss.

Oh, God. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to wrap his arms around her in return.

There were no candles lit and he was dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit.

"Are we going out? I was under the impression we were staying in, but we have all night. Dorota thinks I'm staying with Serena tonight."

"I am going out." His voice was cold and he wasn't even looking at her.

What on earth was wrong? He hadn't seemed upset when she'd had to cancel their plans because her mother was in town, but…. "Chuck, are you upset about the other night? I don't understand."

He couldn't very well tell her, 'I am setting you free and it's killing me.' He couldn't even look at her face.

"Did you get my note? I was hoping you'd come over, though Mother didn't leave until later in the evening."

"I was busy, sorry."

"Are you angry with me?"

He sneaked a look at her face then, mostly because he couldn't help it. By now his eyes were trained to seek hers. There was confusion in her expression and her gaze was frantically scanning his face.

"No, of course not." It was said in a more normal tone, but she didn't find it reassuring in the least. "It's just that our little experiment is complete."

"Experiment?" She could hardly get the word out of her mouth.

"To see if I could be monogamous, have a relationship. I'm sad to say that I can't."

If he had been able to look at her, he would have seen the color drain completely out of her face, until only the crimson on her lipstick remained. Her skin went cold, her pupils widened, her heart was pounding.

This could not be happening, she told herself. She had thought…she had believed…that he felt the same.

She cleared her throat. "We were…an experiment?"

"We'll still be friends. We've always been friends." He moved to take her hand, but she pulled it away. "Just not friends with benefits."

He didn't love her. He didn't want her either. The pain went all the way through her. Tears threatened behind her eyes and her tongue seemed to go mute. Nothing had ever hurt this much before and she just wanted it to stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Please, stop!

Oh, God, he was still talking. In the interest of self-preservation, she had to get out of there. She forced the pain down, forced herself to feel numb, if only for a moment.

Then she picked up her wrap and bag. "Well, you know what happens when you mix the wrong elements together, don't you, Bass?"

She turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

The reverberating echo was the sound of his life completely falling apart.

* * *

He was on his third scotch at Victrola when it occurred to him: she'd taken it calmly.

Too calmly.

Which meant there was a storm brewing beneath that cool exterior.

Oh, God, her recovery. What would this do to her eating disorder? As angry as he knew he'd made her, he also knew she would blame herself. And that blame might lead to a relapse.

He had to go check on her. He called for the limo.

She'd gone home. He knew she would. He could only hope it was for privacy and not purging.

Most of the lights were off in the penthouse, but he only needed the few remaining to make his way up the stairs two at a time. Her bedroom door was shut, but he could hear her inside, settling in for the night.

His jaw clenched. What had he done? He was resolved that if he heard so much as a single retch, he was going in there and putting a stop to this. He would tell her it was a mistake, that he loved her more than anything in the world, and even if she loved every single other man on the planet besides him, he would still never leave her. And heaven help him, part of him wished for that, just to end his own agony.

But this wasn't about him; it was about her. So he slid down the wall and sat on the floor outside her door, maintaining a silent vigil.

He wasn't surprised when he heard the first sob. Or the next. Or any of the many that followed until they finally faded into even breaths of slumber.

He was, however, surprised by one thing: if she was the one crying, then why was his own face wet?

To Be Continued in Chapter 16

* * *

Author's Note:

Please do not scream at me, call me an 'evil, evil wench' or put a curse on me—my betas have already done that. Well, you can if you want—that's partly why we have a review button. If you must throw something at me, I request that it be chocolate. Also, throw gently, as I have been struggling with a sinus/ear infection and am quite miserable these days.

Special thanks to Chrys1130, Shrk22, Almaloney33 and a gold star to Chairship for beta benevolence. Thank you, dear readers, reviewers and guests, for taking this journey with me.

Next up really is a _Gilded Cage_ update for Limoversary. Let's hope.

In the meantime, Secretverse fans, let's have some faith and some chocolate.

Xoxo


	16. Chapter 16

Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck wanted to tell Blair those 3 all-important words, but before he could, he overheard her tell Eleanor that she loved Nate and always would. Crushed, he set Blair free, but later worried that the harsh way he had done so would trigger a relapse with her eating disorder.

Chapter 16

"Chuck, er, Mr. Bass!" Dr. Allison Maloney was so startled to see the young man outside her office suite in the Ostroff Center that she nearly spilled her Starbucks dark roast venti.

"Chuck, please. May I speak with you a moment?"

"Of course, of course." The doctor fumbled with her messenger bag, handbag, keys and breakfast beverage until she regained her balance and unlocked the door.

She stepped inside, flipped on the lights and indicated that Chuck should follow her back to what she liked to call her Discussion Room, so that they would have as much privacy as was needed.

"What can I help you with today, Chuck?" She had to admit she was curious. When a client was in a situation that required her attention outside of office hours, it was usually in the evening and not early morning. Besides, Chuck wasn't even her client; he was Jessica's…wasn't he?

"I need to ask a favor of you." Well, that sounded serious.

She looked at him more closely. His hair and suit were both rumpled, his tie was askew and dark circles stood out under eyes that were suspiciously shiny. Something was wrong.

"You know I will help in any I can." She opened the lid to her coffee and a small cloud of steam arose. "Would you like to share this coffee? I have some foam cups over by the water cooler…."

"Thank you, no." He appreciated the offer and the maternal vibe, wondering for the millionth time what it would be like to have grown up with a mother of his own. "I'm actually here to see you about Blair."

Allison sighed. "Chuck, you know we cannot discuss Blair's treatment…."

"It's not that—well, not directly. Blair has had…an upset that may affect her treatment. Though once the shock is over, she will realize it is for the best. It is for the best," he repeated, almost to himself. "She will almost certainly call you this morning to request an appointment. If she doesn't, please call her to set one up. She needs you. Please say you will help her."

"Of course. If Blair needs to be seen today, we will make that happen." She had barely finished the sentence when he stood up and held out a hand to shake hers.

"Good. Thank you so much. Please don't let her know I was here." And he was gone.

What on earth was going on? Had Blair relapsed? Was there a problem with her mother…or with Nate or Serena?

Lost in her thoughts, Allison stared down at the still steaming cup of coffee in her hands, wishing it contained something much, much stronger.

* * *

As predicted, Blair called shortly after Chuck left and Dr. Maloney told her to come right in. Allison fidgeted and fretted until the young woman arrived and the receptionist was leading her into the inner office.

And Blair Waldorf seemed…fine.

Her school uniform was freshly pressed and smartly accessorized. Chestnut waves were fashionably held in place by a yellow headband. Her makeup, with the exception of a bold plum lipstick, was meant to appear natural and unaffected. Her demeanor was calm. She appeared to be the ray of sunshine the yellow headband proclaimed her to be.

Allison looked again, more closely this time.

Under the translucent face powder, her skin was pale. The smile on her lips seemed fixed and the shade she was wearing was decidedly not the sheer red Chuck had designed for her. The high heel of her shoe tapped nervously on the tile floor and the hand that smoothed down her skirt revealed cuticles that were red and ragged where they had been nervously picked. Her eyes were just the slightest hint of red, as if she'd been crying.

Oh, yes, something was definitely wrong. Blair had once said that Chuck saw everything and in this case, he certainly had.

"Blair, it's good to see you. How have you been? How was your vacation?" She decided to ease into the conversation and let Blair open up when she was ready.

"It was…amazing." Blair's voice seemed far away, almost as though she were back in the Caribbean. As if by rote, she described their adventures and mishaps, answering the therapist's questions and conversing in a manner that would have seemed normal to most who knew her.

Still, Allison could feel the distance. Okay, if it wasn't about their spring break…

"How are things at school?"

"It's…school," she shrugged. "Business as usual."

"Your relationship with your mother and your friends is going well?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded.

Well, there was only one thing left.

"What about your relationship with Chuck?" she asked as gently as she could.

For a moment, Blair froze, and then the mask of indifference and normalcy was ripped from her face. Tears welled in her eyes and she turned her head before forcing out the words, "There is no relationship with Chuck."

"What? Why?"

"Yesterday was the first chance I got to actually spend some time with him, but when I got to his suite, he was different…like some stranger I didn't know anymore. He told me that we were just a..a…." She couldn't get her mouth to form the words. She took what was meant to be a steadying breath, but it came out as a sob instead. Then the words came, one by one, as if ripped from her throat. "A…failed…experiment in…monogamy. He said we could…still be friends…without benefits."

Whatever Allison had been expecting, it was not this. She was shocked and horrified and completely unsure what to do next. She tried to reconcile the cold words Blair was saying Chuck had used with the concerned young man who'd been on her office doorstep mere hours before. She sat frozen with her mouth open, not knowing what to think or say as Blair sobbed on the sofa across from her.

Allison Maloney was not a relationship expert. She dealt with them, of course, but usually in terms of how they affected her clients' addictive behaviors. Her first thought was that she needed Jessica. Jessica would know what to do, what to say to make things better for Blair. But she couldn't refer Blair to her, couldn't even professionally consult with Jess herself.

While the professional in her went into shock, the woman inside came to the fore. She grabbed the box of tissues and came to sit next to Blair, gently thrusting a tissue into her hands and waiting for the tears to subside. When they did, she went to the water cooler and got Blair a cup of water. Then she sat back down in her chair and prepared to get control of the session again.

"Blair, has this brought up bad memories of your relationship with Nate?"

"No, this is nothing like that," she shook her head emphatically. "If this is a broken heart, why does it hurt in my whole body?" she demanded. "I should have expected this. I knew, all along, that it was just too good to be true. And I keep telling myself it's for the best…"

It was strange she would say that, since Chuck had said the very same thing. "Why?"

"Because I was going to tell him," she took an unsteady breath, "that I love him. I wanted to so many times on our trip, before even. But I was afraid…and I wanted him to say it first. I thought he felt it too. I'm so glad I didn't say it. If I had…and he turned away…or laughed at me…I couldn't bear it."

"You should never be ashamed of your feelings, Blair. They are the part of yourself that is most _you._ " Again, she felt like she was floundering, but it needed to be said, even said poorly. "Tell me, since he…said those things to you, how have you reacted?"

"I left right after he said that. I was so upset, I didn't want him to see. And then I think I was in shock; the rest of the evening is just a blur. I just wanted to go home and crawl in bed, be by myself."

"Were you planning to binge and purge?" It had to be asked.

"I – I wanted to," she admitted softly.

"But you didn't?"

Blair shook her head again.

"Why?"

"Because I knew they wouldn't stop. The feelings. Part of me doesn't want them to. Because even though it hurts so much, at least I know it was real—for me, anyway."

Allison nodded. "Blair, tell me what I can do to help you get through this."

"Lie to me. Tell me it's going to get easier every day…until someday I can think about all this," she gestured with her hands, "and not laugh—never that!—but maybe not cry either."

"Would you take it all back now, if you had the option? The secret admirer gifts? The trip?" She waited breathlessly to hear what Blair would say.

There was no pause.

"No," she smiled sadly, "because Chuck's made me happier than I've ever been."

She didn't tell her about how she'd been dreaming that Chuck was standing over her, that he'd kissed her cheek and whispered against her lips…

"I love you, Blair."

Nor did she tell Dr. Maloney that when she awakened a couple hours later she'd forgotten his rejection of the day before and her first thought had been of seeing him again. Her happiness has lasted only seconds, until memory kicked in.

Memories stung and the truth hurt.

* * *

Allison passed the rest of the day in a daze, her mind constantly replaying her visit from Chuck and her session with Blair.

Blair had been so happy. From her secret admirer's first gift to her decision to go away with Chuck…in terms of confidence and happiness, she had blossomed.

And Chuck…from the first time he'd come to her office for help to this latest visit today, he'd seemed to be all about Blair. Crazy about her. Willing to do anything for her. Granted, surprising her therapist and offering bribes probably wasn't the best course to take, but she'd understood where his motivation was coming from.

What she didn't understand was why he had broken things off with Blair. If he was the one who wanted to be free, then why had he looked such a mess, why did it look like he'd been the one crying?

There was a piece missing to this puzzle, a key that would make sense of it all.

And she had no idea what it was.

It was a relief to get home, to slip off her shoes and rub her temples and let herself think. She was still curled up in her favorite chair when the door opened and a rain-soaked Jessica came inside.

"Jess!" She stood up to greet her. "You're soaked!"

"I walked home." Jessica's voice sounded strained.

"In this rain? Why?" And then she noticed Jess's face was deliberately turned from hers.

"Jess," her voice was softer now as she cupped her jaw and pulled her face into the light so she could see… "Jess, are you crying?" Jessica rarely shed tears.

"No…yes…maybe." That was a 'yes' then.

"Talk to me. Please."

"I can't," her voice broke on the second word. "It's about a client."

"Of course you can. Maybe I can help."

"Not with this particular client."

Oh. Now she understood.

"I understand you can't talk about him, but can you tell me why you are so upset?"

Allison was nothing if not tenacious. Jess sighed. She shouldn't talk about this at all, but she was just so blindsided by it all that she hadn't fully processed it yet.

Vague. She could be vague and not break confidentiality.

"He is ending our sessions. Because he's no longer in a relationship." She omitted his vow that he never would be in another one again.

"Clients change," her partner reminded her.

"True. For a variety of reasons…but I just feel like I've failed him."

"We all feel like that from time to time. Just today…," Allison trailed off before she started talking about Blair's heartbreak.

"I feel like he's all alone now and I couldn't predict that, couldn't stop it from happening…"

"Jess, you're his therapist, not a fortune teller with a crystal ball." She paused before admitting, "I didn't expect it either. And it's been bothering me all day."

"There's just something special about -."

"Both of them," Allison finished.

"I wish I could undo this, fix this."

"I do too, but don't you always say that if two people are meant to be together they will find their way back?"

"That's not exactly what I said. I said if they want to be together, and are willing to work hard and take a leap of faith, then they can find their way back."

"But love is the ultimate leap of faith, isn't it? I did learn that from you. Not from what you said, but from how you made me take a chance on us. So don't be thinking you don't change lives; you've certainly changed mine. And I wouldn't want it any other way." She smiled then, gently wiping the last remnants of the tears from Jessica's face and placing a reverent kiss on her lips.

"I love you…and guacamole. Can we go for dinner at Rosa Mexicano tonight?"

"Are you trying to change the subject?" Allison raised an eyebrow.

"No, just pausing. Maybe this is just a pause for them too."

"I can't help feeling there's something we don't know that's the key to all this."

"They will have to work it out for themselves."

"Until then, we'll just have to have a little faith…and a lot of margaritas."

* * *

"Mr. Bass, your party is here. If you'll follow me…." The hostess' tight blouse was unbuttoned just enough to showcase impressive cleavage and her high heels and sheer stockings were meant to call attention to curvy calves. She glanced over her shoulder at him to be certain he was appreciating the view.

He wasn't.

Chuck's mind was already focused on the upcoming business meeting/dinner with his father. Attache case in hand, he was ready to make his case that Victrola was doing well. It should be; in the time following his breakup with Blair, the business was all he'd been focused on. No, that wasn't strictly true. He thought about being with Blair—or rather, not being with her—every waking hour…and then he dreamed about her at night. Dealing with numbers, orders, projections and learning the ins and outs of successful club management was a distraction, the only thing keeping him sane.

He was ready for this meeting.

And then he reached the table….

He was so not ready for this.

Instead of the expected setting for two, he'd been taken to a large, round table with his father…and others. He knew the blonde woman sitting beside his father…

Lily van der Woodsen. She smiled up at him. "Charles! It's wonderful to see you."

Sitting next to her were Eric and Serena. They looked only slightly less surprised than he was by this.

"Mrs. Van der Woodsen," Chuck nodded. He was nothing if not polite.

Bart gestured to the only open seat at the table. Right next to Serena.

Oh, joy.

His look of disgust on his face was mirrored on her own. The tension of their last meeting had in no way dissipated.

Bart seemed oblivious to the frigid atmosphere and Lily was all smiles. The only person who seemed normal was Eric, who, after being a bit shy at first, opened up and proved to be a good conversationalist.

Chuck kept waiting for his father to grill him on details of the business, even in front of their guests, but other than a quick "How are things going at the club?" and a nod at Chuck's response, Bart's mind seemed to be on other things.

It became apparent what those were when he ordered champagne with their desserts. Once the glasses were filled, Bart looked around at the table and cleared his throat. "I would like to make an announcement. Earlier this evening, it was my great privilege to ask this beautiful creature," he gestured to Lily, who blushed prettily, "to be my wife."

There was a collective gasp from Serena and Eric. Chuck remained still.

"And it was my very great honor that she said yes. I hope you will be as happy about this news as we are." Bart actually squeezed her hand and then kissed it.

"Mom!" Serena was in shock. "You can't mean that…that…."

"That we'll all be one big happy family? Oh, it certainly seems that way, darling stepsister." Chuck was equally shocked and more than a little disgusted, but seeing Serena pushed so far off-balance pleased him in some perverse way. He raised his glass and drained its contents in a single gulp.

"I've always wanted a brother. This is so exciting." Eric was clearly used to being cast in the role of diplomat.

If Bart and Lily had been looking over at their children, they might have been concerned at their varying reactions, but they were too busy clinking glasses and staring into each other's eyes.

What followed was an awkward silence at the table.

Chuck took that as his cue to leave. "Well, on that happy note, I'll take my leave. I have a project to see to."

Serena's eyes darted over to his and she frowned. Clearly, she thought his project was Blair.

He wished.

"Mrs. Van der -."

"Oh, call me Lily, please." She beamed at him when he bent over and kissed her hand.

He shook his father's hand and then Eric's before turning back to Serena. "Goodnight…sis."

Serena's eyes squeezed shut in horror, which just amused Chuck more.

His father was getting married. It was shocking and horrifying. For the life of him, Chuck couldn't imagine his father proposing. Handing Lily a huge, sparkly ring and telling her they would marry? Yes. Actually asking for her hand in marriage? No. But however the incident had taken place, it was now a fait accompli. Over the course of one post-dinner toast, he'd learned he was getting a glamorous stepmother, a sister who at best disapproved of him, and a hero-worshipping little brother.

He'd never been more grateful to have his own suite.

And he'd never felt more alone.

Because he desperately wanted to talk to the one person who wasn't in his life anymore.

* * *

Blair, like the rest of the Upper East Side, was stunned to hear of Bart and Lily's matrimonial plans. Who would have thought Bart would ever consider marrying again? He'd never even had a girlfriend since Chuck's mother had died. Oh, Blair was sure there had been plenty of women, but, as in all things, Bart was discreet.

Unlike his pig of a son.

Blair had been bracing herself for news of extreme Chuck debauchery (maybe they should call it deBassery?) since he'd abruptly broken up with her. Every time a Gossip Girl alert came through, she steeled her heart before looking at it. So far it seemed that Chuck hadn't wanted a parade of new girls, he just hadn't wanted her.

It hurt. Oh, how it hurt. Even though she'd known how it would end from the very beginning, he'd somehow managed to make her believe it was possible. She was happy; she was in love. She thought he was too. Part of her wanted to toss her pride aside and go to him, demanding to know why, why had this happened.

But pride was all she had left. She'd managed not to break down when he told her. Thank God nobody knew or else she'd be getting looks of pity, derision or amusement everywhere. Sometimes she had the oddest sensation that she could still feel Chuck's eyes on her, but that was crazy. There was mutual avoidance on both sides.

The only place they were forced to deal with each other was play practice. For an hour, three times a week, Blair and Chuck ceased to be the polite strangers they'd become and were the impassioned Katherine and Petruchio instead. Ironically, it was the only time she didn't feel like she was acting. She could look at that beloved face all she liked, snap at him, flirt with him, even scream at him. She supposed there was some satisfaction in that.

But…she still missed him.

She missed his hand at the small of her back when they were walking somewhere, his fingers entwined with hers, the little kisses he dropped across her shoulders before feasting on her neck…dear God, she missed the things he could do to her body.

But more than the physical, incredible as it was, she simply missed talking to him. She wanted to know how his day was going, if he was still playing the piano, how he really felt about his new stepfamily-to-be.

A sudden and awful thought occurred to her. If Bart had been shopping for a wife on the UES, they were tremendously lucky he hadn't picked Eleanor. Her mother had a flourishing business as well as connections to the old families of New York. Plus, she was poised, intelligent and attractive. Blair could see all that being very appealing to a man like Bart.

Still, the thought of being Chuck's sister... She shuddered. It was fortunate that, as the Marilyn Monroe movie postulated, some gentlemen prefer blondes.

Saved by the blonde!

But not the bell…

The email alert on her phone chirped.

Chuck was throwing a birthday party for Nate. At Victrola. With a 1920s speakeasy theme.

She winced before she could stop herself. They could have had so much fun planning that together!

Except they weren't together.

She kept forgetting that.

The party was coming up next week. Should she go?

Did she have a choice? This was bound to be _the_ big party of the spring. If Queen B were not there holding court, it would be noticed, commented on, and gossip would swirl.

No, she had to go.

No matter how much it hurt.

* * *

Chuck Bass was busy. Putting together a theme party of this scale in a mere week was a challenge, one he was clearly up to, but it would've been so much easier and more fun with…no, he wasn't going to think about her now.

Guests were pouring through the doors, dressed in flapper finery, and Chuck mingled while still keeping an eye on the staff and the ostensibly alcohol-free punch bowl.

He felt her presence before he saw her.

And then he turned around…and let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Her dark hair was swept up in pin-curled waves and adorned with a glittery headband. Strands of dark beads were entangled around her neck and showcased the low neckline of a cream-colored dress that seemed to be comprised of endless rows of silk fringe. Its short length showed off shapely legs, delicate ankles and feet shod in t-strap pumps. She was perfect from head to toe.

And she was here…alone! He'd been half afraid she wasn't coming…and now she'd walked through the door, he wasn't entirely sure what to say to her.

Before he knew it, he was standing beside her.

"Chuck!" He'd startled her, but she recovered quickly. "The place cleans up nice. Definitely more exhibition than Prohibition."

"I'll take that as a compliment, since no one exhibits more beautifully than you." He gestured to her ensemble.

"You look quite dapper yourself." Her hand came up, almost of its own accord, and straightened the already perfect knot in his tie before dropping back to her side.

She was a failed experiment, a friend without benefits…she must remember that.

What would've happened next was anyone's guess, because Serena darted up breathlessly. "Have you seen Dan?"

"Are you referring to your rumpled Romeo, sis?" he drawled.

"He's my guest tonight – and don't call me that! I am not your sister."

"Yet," he smirked. "Get ready to multiply your daddy issues times a million."

Serena glared at him and grabbed Blair's arm. "C'mon, Blair, let's go."

Blair allowed herself to be led (dragged?) away, unsure if that was really what she wanted.

It was, by all accounts, an amazing party. Gossip Girl called it "the squeeze of the season" due to the large crowd.

After Dan arrived and Serena deserted her, Blair danced and flirted and chatted and held court with her minions…and was bored out of her mind. It was so different from her previous outings here with Chuck.

Chuck.

Everything came back to Chuck.

That, she supposed, was the heart of the problem. She just wanted to escape, but there was no way of doing that until the party started breaking up. Which it showed no signs of doing. She discreetly looked at the time on her phone. Would this night never end?!

"Ladies and gentlemen," Chuck raised his voice to make an announcement, "we'll be having fireworks on the roof in a few minutes, if you'd like to start moving towards the stairs or elevator."

A buzz went through the crowd. Fireworks? How on earth had he gotten a permit to do fireworks on the roof of a public building in early April? Most shrugged and simply accepted the invitation, but Blair knew: he was Chuck Bass; the usual rules did not apply.

She stood there for a few minutes, uncertain whether to follow her departing friends or take advantage of the chaos to make her own exit.

Eventually she decided to go see the fireworks and then make a stealthy exit after. The doors to the elevator were closing and she put out a hand to halt their progress, sliding into the packed compartment…and a familiar form.

Chuck.

Of course. Who else?

Once the doors started to close again, she had no choice but to squeeze in closer next to him, until their bodies were almost touching. Close enough that she could both hear and feel his sudden intake of breath.

Or was that her own?

She did not close her eyes, forcing them to stay focused on the polished stainless steel of the door…and their distorted reflections there.

She could do this. How long could it possibly take to get to the roof? She tried to force her heartbeat and respiration to slow down, but they were proving remarkably stubborn. Then she realized that her breaths were in sync with Chuck's.

Why? He was the one who didn't want her, right? Right?!

It had felt like an eternity, but finally the elevator car came to a bumpy stop. The doors slowly slid open—too slowly for Blair's taste—and she prepared to escape…from the enclosed space, the crush of people and him.

Mostly him.

They moved forward to the doors leading to the rooftop, with Chuck still close behind, still in her personal space, it seemed.

She moved faster.

Too fast, because her heel caught on an uneven spot in the threshold and she started to fall forward.

Before she could make a sound, before she could even try to catch herself, strong hands shot out and caught her waist, sliding down to her upper thighs.

"I've got you, baby," his voice was right by her ear, sending shivers down her neck.

She froze, and so did he. Oh, God.

The partygoers behind them tried to push past them and Chuck pulled her off to the side, his hands still protectively clasping her.

Oh, God.

It's been said every man is primarily attracted to one of three erogenous zones on a woman's body: breasts, ass or legs. One is the poison that will draw him above all others.

During a Lost Weekend, Chuck had once been asked what his was. He'd replied that he was thorough in his worship of the female form and he was equally devoted to all three.

But that wasn't entirely true.

Breasts? Lovely in all sizes, but too obvious a choice…in his opinion.

Derriere? Well, the view was lovely, no doubt. He'd always appreciated a good view.

But the legs?

Soft.

Silky.

So very sensitive.

The nape of her neck might be his kryptonite, but it was not his only nemesis.

The little sounds she made when he so much as brushed them with his fingertips.

The shivers that danced across her skin when his breath hovered over the delicate area on the inside of her thighs.

Oh, her ankles were elegant, her calves were shapely and that sassy little spot behind her knees…

But when those oh so perfect thighs wrapped around him and pulled him even closer during their most intimate moments, he was lost.

And right now that was all he could think about.

The first volley of fireworks had begun with multicolor bursts shooting into the night sky. There were oohs and ahs and he could hear his best friend laughing.

He should let Blair go, let her step out of the shadows…

But his fingers curled into that tender skin and his face was so very close to the satin column of her neck. He could smell her perfume, her hair….

Any minute now, she was going to shake him off and step back out into the light.

But she didn't. If anything, she moved closer until she was flush against him and one of her hands came down to cover his.

Were there still fireworks in the sky? He couldn't see past the fireworks in his arms. Why had he ever let her go? Did it really matter that she didn't love him? Maybe he could love enough for both of them. Would she take him back after the hurtful things he'd said? Maybe…

A suddenly bright flash illuminated the rooftop and he could see Serena glaring at him and looking meaningfully at Nate. He was stealing Blair's dream.

Message received, loud and clear.

There were a couple more pops of color in the sky and then the full moon appeared to be obscured by the dust and gases from the pyrotechnics.

Slowly, deliberately, he stepped back and let go of her. Every part of it felt wrong, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

She turned around then, surprised by his change in mood.

"In my defense, the moon was full and I was unsupervised," he recited the quote and then he was off to see to his guests.

She stood there, more confused than ever. Because when he'd broken up with her and said those awful things, she believed him, believed he didn't want her any longer.

But his body pressed against hers, his hands touching her, his breath against her neck, the rarely used whispered endearment: they all told her he still wanted her.

If he still wanted her, there was hope. She could fix this.

Tomorrow, she was going to make it her mission to seduce Chuck Bass.

To Be Continued in Chapter 17

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend Chrys1130 on her birthday. She is a truly beautiful person, inside and out, and a joy to know.

To Xana: I don't know how you always know when it's time for me to update, but you do, and it makes me smile. Thank you.

Thank you, dear readers, for your kindness and support.

Xoxo


	17. Chapter 17

Last time in the Secretverse: Blair coped with Chuck's rejection. Drs. Maloney and Gold worried about their clients. Fireworks between Chuck and Blair at Nate's birthday party led Blair to suspect Chuck might still have feelings for her.

Chapter 17

Chuck had screwed up. There was no question about it.

Blair was at Nate's party.

Then she was in his elevator…

In his nostrils…

In his personal space…

Completely in his head.

And then she'd stumbled…and nearly fallen.

Into his arms and back into his heart—no, that wasn't right, she'd never left. It wasn't her fault he'd caught her and had been unable to let her go. He could try to blame the moonlight, the fireworks, the lack of supervision, but, in truth, the fault lay squarely at his door.

When sanity dawned (and Serena glared), he'd done the right thing: he'd pulled away from Blair. He'd let go of those legs, shrugged her hands off his and made his escape.

What Chuck Bass couldn't escape was the look in her eyes when he'd done so. Confusion, disappointment and…no, there was no way that could've been desire.

Because it made him remember how wonderful it was to wake up to that dazed, dreamy look every morning and what came after it…and those topics were off-limits.

What the hell had he been thinking last night? If he didn't do something right now, she was going to figure out that he wanted her like crazy, needed her like air and loved her more than life. If she was ever going to be happy and get what she wanted (sadly, Nate), then she had to believe that she was free to do so.

And he had to stay away from her until he could pretend that was what he wanted too.

Some distance needed to be established here. He was going to make it his mission to avoid Blair Waldorf.

* * *

Which was very inconvenient timing, because on that very morning, Blair Waldorf had made it her mission to seduce Chuck Bass.

So when he arrived late, he completely missed that she was wearing her shortest, tightest skirt paired with his favorite stockings and heels that would've given even Serena altitude sickness. Dark curls were swept off her neck, showcasing a silky column of skin scented with a liberal dose of Chanel no.5. She'd even put on an extra coat of her Fire Below lipstick.

She had set the stage for his seduction, but the audience was empty.

Undeterred, she got a library pass and took up watch in their favorite corner for two class periods.

And all that got her was some unwanted attention from a Chess Club meeting and some suspicious looks from the library aides.

Lunch! He had to eat, right? Not if he volunteered to fill in for an absent student on the intramural soccer team. She completely lost her taste for the yogurt parfait in her hands.

By mid-afternoon, she was angry (How was she supposed to seduce someone who didn't even have the decency to show up?) and desperate (Why, why wasn't he around? Where was he?).

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Play practice rolled around. He couldn't bail on that.

* * *

Oh, he longed to bail on play practice, but there was a strict attendance policy. Missing more than two rehearsals would result in being ejected from the role he'd fought hard to win. He refused to admit that he might need this ongoing contact with Blair.

Just a little fix…

One glance couldn't hurt…

The briefest flicker of his gaze took it all in: the short skirt, the wispy tendrils of hair falling against her collarbone, that beautiful face. Her lips were inviting him to kiss her and the flash of her dark eyes was daring him to do so. He was ready to surrender now.

If so little contact reduced him to this state, what would hours of prolonged exposure have done?

He took a deep breath. He was going to be fine. Hopefully, today's rehearsal would be heavy on the other characters and light on Petruchio and Kate.

He took the play script from Mrs. Fraser, their drama coach/school guidance counselor.

Act V, scene 1.

He leafed through it. Some Bianca and Lucentio-well, that explained why Nate was sitting by Serena and looking a bit confused. It was the blonde leading the blond with those two. Except they seemed to be getting direction from…Blair? At one point, she actually pushed them closer together.

What the hell was she doing? If she wanted Nate, why was she pushing her best friend at him? And why had she turned away from the blond pair to flash _him_ a self-satisfied smile?

Something was afoot here….

He kept leafing through the script.

On page 8, he discovered what it was. No! Oh, God, no. He was so not ready to play this scene with her today.

Maybe not ever.

He shot a look at her to see if she realized what awaited them today. She too was leafing through the script. She stopped and looked at him…and smiled.

It lasted a mere moment before something caught her attention and she turned away. When her face turned back in his direction, it was devoid of expression.

That should have allayed his worries, but it didn't. Because if anyone knew what Blair Waldorf looked like with a plan, it was Chuck Bass. He'd been studying her so long he ought to have an honorary degree in Waldorf by now.

He might not comprehend what her plan was, but he knew this: countermeasures would be taken. She was not going to win this.

While Chuck was waiting for their upcoming scene together, he read over his lines and steeled his determination to resist whatever she was going to throw at him.

And then the other characters exited the stage and they were up…

"Husband, let's follow to see the end of this ado."

He took her arm and tried not to be swept back to that time on their vacation when she'd first played his wife. His mind stubbornly replayed her laugh as he'd carried her over the threshold of their villa. They had been so happy…

"First kiss me, Kate, and we will." He was playing with fire. Was this was suffering for one's art meant?

"What, in the midst of the street?" Katherine might sound shocked, but Blair's eyes were on his eyes…and his lips.

"What, art thou ashamed of me?" It was supposed to be spoken lightly, in jest. It sounded far more serious than he'd intended.

"No, sir, God forbid, but ashamed to kiss." She was acting here, and they both knew it. She'd never held back with him. She was never shy or hesitant with him, alone or in public, and-God help him-he loved that.

"Why, then let's home again. (to Grumio) Come, sirrah, let's away." He needed the distraction of levity and another character right now.

She put her arm on his. "Nay, I will give thee a kiss." And then she was in his arms again, pulling his face down to hers.

He could have dodged it.

He could have angled his face so she kissed his cheek.

He could have held back and let the kiss land somewhere in the air between them.

He could have cracked a joke and dissolved the tension on the stage.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, his lips met hers kiss for kiss.

It was like a stroke of lightning, a thread of electrified current between them, and it was either killing him or bringing him back to life—he couldn't tell which.

And then it was over. Had he been kissing her for seconds or millennia—he didn't know. He just stood there, dazed, as her lips began to speak again.

"Now pray thee, love, stay." Her voice sounded unsteady, but the appeal was undeniable. If Petruchio could resist, he was a better man than Chuck, who would've agreed to anything she suggested at that moment.

"Is this not well? Come, my sweet Bla—er, Kate. Better once than never, for never too late." He desperately hoped she hadn't heard his misstep, but a glance at her appraising gaze told him she had and was considering what it might mean.

It meant he needed to get the hell out of there—NOW. While Mrs. Fraser was complimenting Blair on her acting in the scene, he beat a hasty retreat. He didn't need anyone to praise his acting skill in being unable to resist the charms of Blair Waldorf—indeed, that was the truest thing in his life.

* * *

When Blair turned around he was gone. Where was he?! Her eyes frantically darted around in search of their quarry.

How could he have just disappeared? She needed to see him, to see his face, to confirm what she really already knew…

What she'd known last night in the elevator, on the rooftop, under the glow of the fireworks….

He wanted her.

She wanted him.

So why were they wasting precious time being miserable without each other?

She wished she could just ask him that. And then it occurred to her that this was indeed within her power.

She retrieved her purse and phone, rang Arthur—thankfully, he was still in her contact list—and then got out a pen and some stationery.

Her previous methods of seduction had not worked today. She could only hope the pen was mightier than the skirt.

* * *

It was on the limo seat when he slipped inside.

A four-inch rectangle of pristine white paper addressed with a stylized C.

His fingers reached for it, almost of their own volition, and let go as if it had burned them.

He knew who had written that note and he knew that, once seen, the contents could not be unseen.

What was Blair up to? What was she trying to prove? That she was sexy? That he wanted her still? That he wanted to kiss the red off those perfect lips?

All true.

Therefore, there was absolutely no reason why he needed to open that envelope.

And he wasn't going to.

So how that flap came to be loosened and the note card inside opened in his lap, he had no idea.

But since it was open…

 _You said we were a failed experiment._

 _But I still feel the chemistry between us…_

 _And I think you do too._

 _If you do, then meet me and we'll work it out._

 _There's something I want to tell you,_

 _One secret I thought I'd never tell._

 _I'll wait at the top until midnight._

 _102 stories, 360 degrees._

 _Meet me and I'm yours,_

 _B._

He read it once, then two more times in quick succession.

And then he just stared at the words.

* * *

Blair Waldorf rushed straight home after school and gave Dorota the night off. She had a date to plan and she didn't want questions or interruptions. And she certainly didn't want a chaperone. Everything had to be just right, from new Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count so high they felt like silk to lit candles scattered around the room to Chuck's favorite chocolate eclairs from a nearby French patisserie to a bottle of Dom 1989 chilling on ice. And she couldn't forget the new silk robe she'd ordered for him after Valentine's Day; it was the perfect fit and fabric.

Then it was time to get herself ready. The red slip and dress from their first planned meeting. She cursed herself for sending Dorota away then, because manipulating that zipper was a feat of gymnastic proportions. She followed that up with the sheerest, silkiest stockings she could find and the Tiffany's necklace he'd given her for Valentine's Day. She knew she looked her best.

It felt right.

So much more natural and right than these last weeks without him had been. She'd felt like part of herself was missing, like she was in a world that was too sharp, too bright, too cold.

But tonight…that could all change.

Tonight she wouldn't have to dream about him; he would be there.

She was excited but also strangely calm. Their kiss this afternoon had exceeded her expectations. He wanted her too; she could feel it.

Had it been too much, promising to share her secret with him? No, because she'd been afraid to tell him before, but now the words had bubbled up inside and were threatening to spill out.

 _I love you, Chuck. I love you so much._

It didn't matter if didn't respond right away, she told herself. As long as he didn't laugh or run away in a panic, she was perfectly prepared for whatever his reaction might be.

There was so much she still didn't understand about why he'd broken up with her. At first, she'd thought it was because he was missing the variety of other girls. But she'd braced herself and waited…and there were no other girls. At least not according to Gossip Girl.

Maybe the circumstances were complicated and unclear, but love made everything simple, right? This time she would not settle for a dismissal. She would fight for what they had.

This time, she was all in.

As she looked around the room and then checked her appearance in the mirror, she decided she was ready. She picked up her crimson cashmere stole and her bag and was out the door.

She was more than ready.

* * *

Chuck Bass was furious.

How dare she? How dare she offer him everything he had ever wanted at a time when his resistance was so low? Between the nearness of her at the party last night, the hand that come down to cover his, the unexpected kiss at play practice—he was ready to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to the limo and never let her go.

And he needed to let her go.

Because of Nate. Because of what she still felt for Nate.

It had hurt. God, it had hurt, but he'd done it for her own good, for their own good. How was he supposed to send her away if she refused to stay gone?

It was maddening. He thought back to play practice and her coaching of Nate and Serena. If she'd put one quarter of the effort she'd expended in seducing him into attracting Nate instead, his best friend would be well and truly tamed by now. Nathaniel wouldn't be able to resist her. No red-blooded male could.

What that the secret she wanted to share? That she still wasn't over Nate? Because he didn't know if he could stand there and look at her beautiful face while she told him that. No, truth be told, he was afraid that it wouldn't make any difference at all to him and he'd still be her willing slave.

So he was not going to meet her tonight. He had responsibilities. He had Victrola to see to.

He glanced at his watch. She would probably be at the Empire State Building by now. Of course he'd immediately known where her proposed meeting place was. It was so _An Affair to Remember_. It was so her.

He busied himself getting ready for the happy hour crowd. Being a destination night spot was great, but pulling in the after-work crowd before they left the city was what was making their revenue go higher. Chuck shouldn't have been at all surprised when Bart stopped in, ostensibly for a pre-dinner drink, but also to survey his investment. The place was clean, attractive and well run. All laws were being followed, all standards were met. Chuck had spent most of his life in hotels, restaurants and bars; he knew what made for a good experience for the patrons. Bart had no cause for complaint.

Indeed, Bart just seemed happier lately. Maybe it had something to do with his new engagement to Lily van der Woodsen. Bart lingered over his drink before ordering another, chatting briefly about the wedding. Chuck was surprised his father was leaving practically all the planning to Lily, perfectly content to let her take the reins. It was so unlike Bart's master micromanager persona.

He was reminded of the ongoing honeymoon joke with Blair—how they'd used it to rid themselves of that interloper who was hitting on Blair, how she'd challenged him to do the jump with her, how he'd picked her up and carried her over the threshold at their villa.

Now she was challenging him again, but this time he had to say no.

The 'honeymoon' was over.

Lost in thought, Chuck didn't hear most of the rest of Bart's conversation, but he stood and shook his hand when Bart took his leave.

Then he was alone again, even in a crowded club, alone with thoughts of Blair.

She was waiting for him once again, and again he would disappoint her. It made him even angrier. This was not what he wanted. He couldn't believe it was what Blair wanted either.

What did she want?

 _I still feel our chemistry…_

 _We'll work it out…_

 _Meet me and I'm yours…_

Except for the cryptic remark about the secret, it seemed pretty clear: she still wanted him.

And God help him, he still wanted her. And he couldn't have her.

Why? Why couldn't he have her?

He'd done his duty; he'd let her go. Wasn't there an old saying that if you love something, you should set it free, and if it comes back to you, it is yours?

Was she…could she be…his?

If ever there was a woman who knew her own mind, surely that woman was Blair Waldorf?

Could he turn his back on her now, knowing she wanted him? He suddenly understood all the sailors in Greek mythology who followed the lure of the sirens singing on the cliffs, even to their doom on the hazardous rocks below.

If she were beckoning, he was going. It was that simple.

He was done fighting it. Even if her secret was about Nate and would break whatever pieces were left of his heart.

He loved her. It was that easy and that difficult. Maybe she didn't love him now, but she herself said she felt this thing between them. He would go to her and stay with her until she asked him to leave. He would never willingly leave her side again. He could love enough for both of them, and he would as long as she let him.

He stood up and it felt like a huge weight was lifted from him. He wasn't going to waste another second without her.

He was going through the front doors when one of his kitchen staff hailed him regarding a problem with the building's climate control. A heating/cooling tech had been called, but told them he wouldn't be available for several hours.

Chuck sighed heavily. He would have to take care of this before he could go.

An hour and several calls later, he slid into the limo and was ready to instruct Arthur to head for the Empire State when he realized he was still in the rumpled remnants of his school uniform. This would not do. He couldn't meet Blair looking like this!

They stopped at the Palace and Chuck directed Arthur to find a bouquet of peonies while he got ready. But it was going to take more than a shave and a fresh suit and bow tie. He had to get the room ready. His eyes slid over the surprise he'd ordered as soon as they returned from the Caribbean trip. She hadn't seen it yet, and he couldn't wait to show her. As another homage to their getaway, he called the kitchen and requested a basket of chocolate croissants to be delivered the following morning.

At last he was ready to go!

Resettled into the limo, he looked at his watch. How it gotten so late?! Blair must be wondering if he were still coming. Should he call? He looked at his phone. No, definitely not. He wanted to see the look on her face when he appeared. If she was there and happy to see him, he'd know he made the right decision, the best decision for them both.

It was rather jolting when traffic slowed to a crawl and then stopped altogether. He lowered the partition. "Arthur, what's going on?"

"Looks like an accident several blocks up."

"Can you get around it?"

"I don't see how. Traffic's blocked in every direction."

Chuck looked at his watch and gritted his teeth. This could not be happening. He would not let it happen. "Never mind, I'll do this the old-fashioned way." He grabbed the peonies and bolted from the stopped car.

He started off at a fast walk, then a jog, and finally a full-out run as he raced the clock to get to Blair.

When he got to the block on Fifth Avenue between West 33rd and 34th streets, he slid in the doors and allowed himself a second to catch his breath. There was a bit of a line to get tickets and he chafed at the thought of yet another roadblock in his way.

"Welcome to the Empire State Building," the chirpy voice said from behind the counter.

"I need a ticket, please."

"For the 86th or the 102nd Floor Observation Deck?"

"Uh, both. I'm in a hurry; I'm meeting someone there."

"Would you like an express pass so you can avoid waiting?"

"Yes, thank you." He threw a hundred dollar bill at the cashier and grabbed the passes as soon as she placed them in front of him. And then he took off at a run again.

"Sir, your change!" she called after his retreating form.

"Keep it," he muttered as he kept going.

The maze of velvet ropes and exhibits to entertain the waiting guests slowed him down, even with the express pass.

The elevator seemed to crawl.

When the attendant announced the 86th Floor, Chuck got out, unsure which deck Blair had indicated in her note. There were throngs of people crowded around the binoculars and observation areas. Taking photos and taking in the myriad of lights that defined midnight in Manhattan.

He raced around the deck in vain, not seeing her. She must have meant the higher deck.

Back onto the elevator, he practically leaped out when it came to a final stop at the top floor of the building. It was quieter up here. The ticket price was steeper, and the 86th Floor Deck had more room and was famous for its 360 degree view of the city. Still, his eyes scanned every face, searching for the one he prized so much. Every female with long, dark hair. Every flash of dark eyes. They might have all been her.

But they weren't.

He wanted to find her, to hold her, to say those three all-important words to her, even if she couldn't say them back.

In the tallest building in one of the great cities of the world, he had never felt more alone.

* * *

Blair had waited for hours, and she would have waited for hours longer without complaint, but for the fact that had become painfully obvious: he wasn't coming.

The knowledge rocked her to her foundations. She'd been so sure, so very certain that he would meet her and their misunderstanding and missing each other would be a thing of the past.

Once again, she had seriously misjudged his feelings and any resemblance they had to her own.

At a few minutes before midnight, she considered in desperation that perhaps he was waiting on the 86th Floor Deck and it was just a terrible misunderstanding, one they'd find humorous once they found each and reunited.

But he wasn't there and she returned to the top deck to finish out her vigil. Time seemed to move both too swiftly and too slowly, but finally, she could not deny it, midnight had come and gone. It was time to go home.

She took one last stroll by the building's edge, looking out over the city. Hot tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, but the gusts of wind seemed to push them back inside her eyelids.

It was as if the city itself didn't want to see Blair Waldorf shed tears for Chuck Bass.

* * *

"Excuse me, what time is it?" Chuck pleaded with the security guard.

"It's ten past midnight, sir."

"What?!" He looked at his watch again. The battery had chosen tonight of all nights to run out of charge.

When he'd run to the elevator downstairs, he'd already been too late.

She was gone…if she'd ever even been here at all.

"Was there a young lady here? Dark hair. Very beautiful."

"The young lady in red, sir?"

He nodded. That was probably her.

"Oh, yes, she was here for most of the evening. She only left a few minutes ago."

He had to call Arthur. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe he could follow her, find her, explain.

He started to dial the phone when a flash of something caught his eye. It was lying on top of a nearly overflowing waste can: a distinctive gold lipstick case with a unique crown topper was sitting atop a white handkerchief stained with lipstick and adorned with initials he knew all too well.

C.B.

She'd removed all traces of his gift from her person and then threw it away.

Just as he had screwed up and threw them away.

She would never forgive him for that.

If he had wanted to set her free, he could congratulate himself; he had done so.

Absently, he picked up the gold cylinder and put it in his pocket. Then he called Arthur for a ride home.

* * *

When Blair got back to the apartment, she returned the champagne to the wine refrigerator, threw the eclairs away, and one by one blew out every single candle in her bedroom. There, with no one to see or to judge, she let herself cry.

* * *

Forty-eight hours later, Gossip Girl sent out a blast informing the student body that Golden Boy would be escorting Queen B to the Spring Cotillion.

No one seemed very surprised, but to one reader in particular, it was a painful blow.

* * *

Dr. Jessica Gold had a full schedule, as she usually did midweek, so she was taken by surprise when her receptionist told her a young man was waiting to see her after her last client.

"Chuck, it's good to see you. What can I help you with?"

"Your specialty is relationships, right?" His voice sounded raw.

She nodded, waiting to hear more from him.

He looked her straight in the eye. "I need to know how to fall out of love with someone."

To Be Continued in Chapter 18

* * *

Author's Note:

Happy Birthday, dear OSINT! This weekend marks the one-year anniversary of my posting the first chapter of this story. Thank you, dear readers, for coming on this journey with me. Exciting things are coming soon!

Special thanks to my betas: Chrys1130, Shrk22, Almaloney33 (Happy Friendiversary, A!) and Chairship (who hasn't read this yet and will probably be horrified by my typos).

To the lovely people who reviewed my last chapter: I have not forgotten you and will be replying soon. Please know that I appreciate you and you sharing your thoughts with me. I promise to be more timely in the future.

To the guest reviewer who commented on my depiction of the therapists: One of my friends is a licensed psychologist with a Ph.D. She has been invaluable to me in terms of explaining how therapists talk to clients and how therapy works. That being said, this is a work of fiction and I've taken some dramatic license, but I hope readers come away with a sense that both doctor characters are well trained, dedicated professionals who are also human beings that care deeply about the people they serve. Just as I care deeply about my readers and my story.

Wishing you all Happy Holidays and great times with family and friends. See you in the new year!

Xoxo


	18. Chapter 18

Last time in the Secretverse: Blair challenged Chuck to meet her at the top of the Empire State Building if he wanted to give them a second chance. Chuck arrived too late.

Chapter 18

Silence.

"I need to learn how to fall out of love with someone," Chuck repeated.

"Yes, Chuck," Dr. Gold responded, "I heard you the first time. Will you sit down?" She gestured to her sleek, overstuffed sofa.

He sat.

And waited.

"Well, do you have an answer?" He finally asked.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. But you have me at a disadvantage. Tell me what's been happening in your life since our last session?"

Chuck sighed, then began pouring out the whole story of how he'd tried to avoid Blair post-breakup with limited success, finishing up with his missing their rendezvous at the Empire State Building.

"How do you feel about your decision not to follow her after you missed the meet-up?"

"It wasn't my decision." He was firm on that.

"But you even said you were considering going after her, maybe going to her home…."

"There was no point, not after I saw her lipstick in the trash. It was pretty clear then how she felt."

"Was it?" Jessica scrunched her nose. "Because she made that decision based on the belief that you weren't coming to meet her, that you weren't interested in getting back together. What do you think would have happened had you arrived a few minutes earlier?"

Chuck knew this very well. He'd replayed the scene in his head endless times.

 _He would've spotted her with her back turned to him, then, as if she sensed his presence, she'd turn around and smile._

" _Chuck!" He could almost hear her voice, slightly distorted by the strong winds on the observation deck._

 _Then they would be face to face, in each other's arms, sharing a kiss._

 _He would take his hands and cup her face, his fingers gently stroking the silky surface of her cheeks…her jaw…her lips…._

 _And his eyes would never leave hers when he whispered gently, reverently, "I love you, Blair."_

 _He would able to both see and feel the smile spread across her face. "I love…."_

Nate.

She loved Nate, which was the reason that all this conjecture was a waste of time.

"Look, I don't have a time machine or a crystal ball. Less than two days later, Gossip Girl reports she's going to Cotillion with Nate and I just want to know how to stop this." He gestured with his hands.

"Stop what?"

"What I'm feeling."

"What are you feeling?"

"I don't know. It just hurts."

"Do you feel that the Cotillion announcement made it worse?"

He nodded. "I don't why that should be. I knew it was just a matter of time before she got back together with Nate. I just didn't think about it being Cotillion."

"What's special about Cotillion?"

He paused for a moment. "I guess I thought that our secret would be out by now, that it wouldn't just be her coming out, it would be us coming out together. Her debut-it's something she's always looked forward to. I just wanted to be there beside her. I know that doesn't sound very guy-like," he actually looked ashamed at this confession, "but…it just hurts."

"We're not here to pass judgment on your feelings, just to work through them. Where do you feel the pain?"

"Here," he touched his chest. "And here," his hand moved up to this throat. "It feels like it goes all the way through me."

She nodded. "If you were to describe it as a color…?"

"It's just…dark. Blair was the lightest thing that ever came into my life," he said, almost to himself. "So what do I do to stop feeling like this? I've tried all the conventional means."

"Conventional means?" She was truly confused.

"Alcohol. Controlled substances. Twins."

"Twins?! How did you find twins?"

"Actually, they found me. I'm Chuck Bass," he elaborated, as if that explained everything.

It sounded as if he'd tried the male equivalent of a new haircut, a makeover and eating a whole pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "I wish there were an instant solution that I could just tell you and everything would be better," Dr. Gold admitted. "But it's not so much stopping a feeling as it is processing those feelings of grief and loss."

"Grief?!" Chuck spat. "No one died."

"Grief isn't always about death. It's about loss and coming to terms with a loss."

He thought about that for a moment. He felt the loss. He felt…lost.

"Chuck, do you trust me?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?"

"I'll take that as a yes," she smiled. "There's an exercise or two I want you to try before our next session—you are coming back, right?"

He nodded.

She took a sheet of paper from her desk pad and jotted down a name and address. "Here, go to this place tomorrow and tell them I sent you."

He looked at the sheet and raised his eyebrow in her direction.

"I know it's not your usual MO, but give it a chance and let me know how it goes. Oh, and Chuck?" she paused for a second, "I'm really glad you came back."

* * *

The line went down the block and curled around the corner. It ended in an old church in Midtown that doubled as a soup kitchen.

Today, the workers would serve 1200 people, mostly homeless men, dinner.

Today, Chuck Bass would be their newest volunteer.

When he walked in the door and the myriad of sights and sounds and smells hit him…he almost turned around. But he was just desperate enough for a little relief that he stayed.

His training was brief. The diners were called guests once they entered the meeting hall and never treated with less than the utmost respect. It would be Chuck's job to help the workers serve roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, some vegetables, milk and chocolate pudding for dessert.

The workers seemed to be a motley crew; indeed, Chuck learned that many of them were homeless themselves and volunteered as a way to get a free breakfast and lunch. To better blend in, he slipped off his suit jacket and hung it on a chair.

Once the doors opened, chaos ensued and Chuck had no time to think of anything else for the next three hours. It was a sea of faces, a collection of sad stories. They soon turned into a blur. Except for one man about thirty. He took one look at Chuck's clothing and immediately asked, "Bespoke?"

Chuck nodded, surprised and even more so at the man's next observation.

"Doesn't look American-made. Savile Row?"

"Yes, and pardon my asking, but how did you know that?"

The man looked down at his plain jacket and cheap pants and shirt. "You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I used to be a banker on Wall Street until not long ago. Lost my job, lost my apartment, lost my nice clothes. I hope it's not true what they say about the clothes making the man…."

They didn't have time to speak any more before the line pushed the man forward.

Later, as Chuck was leaving, he passed the man on the sidewalk.

"Nice jacket," he indicated the garment hanging over Chuck's arm, the only part of the bespoke ensemble that seemed clean and unstained from this evening of work.

"Here," Chuck handed him the jacket, "you take it. We're about the same size."

"Really, man? Aren't you worried I might sell it for drugs or something?"

"It seemed like you had more respect for fashion that that, but it's a gift. What you decide to do with it is up to you."

"I'm going to save it for a job interview, to be honest. Like I said, my life wasn't always like this. It just seemed like one thing changed everything. I didn't know it was such a delicate balance."

Chuck nodded. He got that. Just a few words had changed his life too. "Good luck." He shook the man's hand and left.

The following day, he was sent to an animal shelter and assigned to walk several dogs. One dog in particular, a mutt named Monkey that was mostly Airedale, seemed particularly reluctant for him to leave. Although Chuck couldn't adopt Monkey—pets were not allowed in the Palace—he did agree to be Monkey's sponsor and come back and walk him again.

* * *

When Chuck went back to Dr. Gold's office a few days later, he expected her to ask about his volunteer assignments.

She did not disappoint, listening intently as he recounted his visits to the soup kitchen and the animal shelter and not interrupting until he was finished. "Chuck, do you know why I asked you go through these experiences? What did you take away from them?"

"Bad things happen…to people and other creatures. Things can change in a minute."

"That's true," she agreed, "but I asked this of you for a couple of reasons. First, when we are in pain and hurting, it sometimes helps to help others who are going through tough times, even if they are very different than our own. Princess Diana said her charity work was helpful during a dark time in her marriage."

Chuck silently waited for her to continue.

"And secondly, because you have strong protective instincts. You might not have enjoyed the mess and chaos of the soup kitchen line, but I'll bet you didn't leave without appreciating their mission and writing a donation check. Just as you spoke of sponsoring that dog at the animal shelter. Am I right?"

Chuck bristled defensively. "You think I'm some easy mark? Some soft-headed idiot?"

She shook her head adamantly. "No, Chuck, I think you have a good heart. You just need to learn to trust it…and protect yourself. Your caring nature doesn't need to be a secret. Things with Blair ended badly for you, but your next relationship could be very different."

He recoiled visibly. "I don't want another relationship," he said, almost to himself.

"What type of relationship would you like to have?"

"What I had with Blair. I don't know what it meant to her, but to me…it was everything. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't want to forget it," he sounded surprised by the words coming out of his mouth, "even if it hurts."

It was oddly quiet for a few seconds.

"So, how are you feeling about your father's marriage and your future stepsiblings?"

Jessica Gold understood.

* * *

When the knock on his suite door jostled Chuck out of a sound sleep, his first thought was of Blair.

Then he took a moment to remind himself that was not happening and to fetch his robe before opening the door.

The blonde whirlwind on his doorstep looked equally surprised to see him. "Chuck!"

He stifled a yawn. "You rang, stepsister dear?" He moved out of the way to permit her entrance.

She walked in and was immediately confused. It was like a whole new suite. Gone was the standard hotel bed and in its place was a large mahogany four poster with sheer white curtains. Surprisingly, it was all made up, with pillows and blankets gracing the sofa in the sitting area.

"Why aren't you sleeping in your new bed? In fact, why are you here sleeping at all? I half expected you to be at your club."

"Surely there should be some rest for the wicked. And the new bed is…uncomfortable."

"So get another one instead," she suggested.

"Do you have any other helpful advice for me?" He was trying to figure out why she'd come calling at this hour.

"What's that?" She was pointing now, at the golden cylinder that had rolled out of his jacket pocket and onto the bed. It looked familiar. She'd seen it somewhere before….

"What?" His glance followed her finger. "That? That's just a pen." He walked over and stuck it back in his pocket. "You were saying…?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Cotillion."

"Are you afraid we'll be wearing the same dress?" he mocked.

"Don't joke, Chuck. This is really important to Blair."

"Did she send you?"

"No, she doesn't know I'm here. But you've heard she's going with Nate?"

"Anyone who has a phone and gets Gossip Girl blasts has. Plus, the Times is following her around and doing an article on it as well."

"I don't want you to mess this up for her."

"Why would think that might happen?"

"Well, she had to dump you to go with Nate, right? I don't want you causing trouble to get your revenge."

Chuck made some noncommittal noise, but did not correct Serena's theory. "I can assure you I will not be 'causing trouble' for Blair. I won't even be there, so you can rest easy—which is what I plan on doing once you leave."

She turned to go.

"Who will be escorting you, sis? Or are you and Blair going to share Nathaniel? Might be easier for him to make moon eyes at you that way."

Serena glared. "It just so happens I am going with Dan."

"Ah, Brooklyn. That should make for a lovely evening."

"You wouldn't understand," she said dismissively.

She was right. He didn't understand. He didn't understand how someone had disappeared from his life and how he would ever fill the Blair-shaped hole she left in her absence.

* * *

Spring Cotillion.

A night to shine.

Blair Waldorf stared down at the pile of stained tissues and rejected lip colors on her dressing table. She'd thrown away every shade of red she owned the day after Chuck hadn't shown for their ESB rendezvous.

Peach was never her color. Too orangey.

Nude? What was the point? Why put on lipstick if it didn't look like you were wearing lipstick?

That left….

Mulberry.

Fuchsia.

Raisin.

Rose.

Pomegranate.

And they were wrong. All wrong. Her lips craved the color of The Fire Below the same way they craved the kiss of Chuck Bass.

There was no point in wishing for something she couldn't have. She took one last look at the silvery damask of her dress and then grabbed the mulberry shade and applied it to her lips again.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Chuck Bass had more than enough to keep him busy on Cotillion night. He needed it. He could not spend the whole night thinking about how his queen was making her debut with his best friend.

He should be glad he wasn't going. It was hard enough getting through play practice. Luckily, they'd come to the end of the play and were starting from the beginning, where Katherine (as well as Blair) was in full-on shrew mode. Hurling of crockery was somehow easier to deal with than having to stand close to her and look into her eyes.

He was glad he wasn't going….

Until his phone rang.

Nate was on his way to pick up Blair and the town car had broken down. Could Chuck send Arthur and the limo?

No, Chuck could not send Arthur and the limo. The limo was sacred; how could he not know that?

Inwardly, he sighed. Outwardly, he said he'd call Nate right back. Then he phoned a former Bass Industries employee who now operated a carriage tour business in Central Park, and the day was saved. He called Nate back, informing him of the change in plan and cautioning him not to tell Blair about the snafu, to just pretend that had been the plan all along.

Still, Chuck couldn't help swinging by Blair's place, just to be sure the pickup went off without a hitch. When she came out of the building on Nate's arm, Chuck's heart clenched and he could hardly breathe. She was so beautiful, especially when she spotted the horse and carriage at the curb. A smile spread across her face, from her mouth all the way up to her eyes. Chuck had to smile too.

Maybe he'd better follow along at a distance to make sure everything went smoothly tonight. They might need him.

When she shrugged off her wrap upon arrival at the Palace, Chuck winced. Good God, what was that thing on her arm? It was supposed to be a corsage, but it looked more like a wild hanging garden. Oh, this would not do, not at all. If he was horrified, he could only imagine what Blair must be feeling. He had a couple of calls to make.

* * *

Serena found it a little strange when Dan arrived to escort her downstairs to the Palace ballroom for Cotillion. But then she found living in a hotel to be odd and she was counting down the time until their penthouse renovations were complete and she could have a real home again. But if she was slightly uneasy, Dan's discomfort was palpable.

She wasn't sure if it was the tux or the conversation he'd had with her grandmother, but he grew more and more tense until he'd actually picked a fight with her and announced his intention to go home.

Oh, no, no, no, no. This could not be happening.

This event did not mean as much to her as it did to Blair, it was true, but it was a big enough event that her rejection would be on display for all of New York society to witness.

She made several calls. Every boy who might be an acceptable escort was either already going to Cotillion or was otherwise engaged, except…

Oh, God, no. This alternative was the worst by far. There was no way she could be thinking of calling….

The phone was ringing before she realized she'd dialed it.

"My sweet sister," the voice drawled, "are you checking on my whereabouts? I can assure you I am not attending Cotillion tonight." It was a brazen lie, as he was actually watching Blair and Nate line up on the steps in preparation for her introduction. A photographer from the Times was snapping photos of them and Blair smiled for the camera.

"What if I need you to?"

"What's going on, Serena?" He was ready to cut to the chase.

"Dan left. It was something Grandmother said. Now I don't have an escort." Her voice broke on the last words and she hoped against hope that he hadn't noticed.

He noticed. Was Humphrey such an idiot that he would stand up a girl like Serena van der Woodsen on the night of her debut? Apparently, he was.

"You must really need my help badly, after warning me away the other night." Oh, he was enjoying this. Just a little bit couldn't be so wrong.

"I've called everyone I know. You're my only hope," she admitted.

"Maybe I'll want an apology before I check my social calendar." How badly did she want it?

"Fine," she huffed, "I'll apologize, but you can't blackmail me into anything indecent." She needed him pretty badly.

"Well, in that case," he pretended to be mulling it over, "I guess I could be troubled to put on a tux and come downstairs. After all, we are soon to be family."

"I'll plan next year's family reunion, just get down here and help me," she hissed.

"Does Nate know how adorable you are when you're being demanding?"

She hung up on him.

Then she immediately worried he might not come. She was on pins and needles for the next ten minutes until he swept into the room, looking every inch like he'd stepped off the cover of GQ magazine. Serena let a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding when there was a tussle on the staircase.

Another deb bumped into Blair and somehow managed to get her dress entangled in Blair's large corsage. When they separated, Blair's flowers came apart completely and scattered on the stairs. The deb—Serena thought she was a student at another Manhattan prep school—was instantly apologetic, fussing over Blair's ruined accessory and offering up her own, a tasteful ensemble of white and light purple roses. She was insistent that Blair accept the substitution. Everyone agreed the flowers were lovely and very becoming with Blair's dress.

As the girl walked by, Serena could've sworn she saw her wink at Chuck. Strange.

Since she'd been late to check in, Serena's presentation was saved for the end of the line.

"Presenting Miss Serena Celia van der Woodsen, escorted by Mr. Charles Bass."

Heads turned, especially those belonging to Miss Blair Cornelia Waldorf and Mr. Nathaniel Archibald.

What was that strange look on Blair's face? Was she…glaring at her? She couldn't be jealous; she'd dumped Chuck after all. It only lasted a second before Blair's carefully schooled society smile came back out.

* * *

When the introductions were finished, Nate rushed over to greet them, with Blair a couple of steps behind. The blonds had an excited and enthusiastic reunion and neither noticed that their dark-haired counterparts were circling each other like wary animals.

It was a relief when dinner was announced and they were surrounded by the distractions of the other debutantes and escorts. It was short lived, though, because dancing started immediately after dessert.

The first few numbers were group dances that moved quickly, and Chuck was grateful for the dance instruction they'd taken earlier in the year. He was less grateful when Blair's pointy heel made contact with his shin.

"Oh, sorry," Blair's wide-eyed innocent look could not hide her secret glee.

He deserved this, he thought, and besides, it wasn't like anything could hurt any worse than his heart already did.

It stung when the slow sets began and she was waltzing with Nate. More than it should.

Her journalist and photographer from the Times took a few more notes and photos and then left. Though she was still smiling, the haunted look in her eyes did not match her mouth.

They had just switched partners in a faster dance, when the music abruptly changed.

 _Unforgettable…that's what you are…_

Chuck looked at her, almost asking permission before he put his arms around her waist.

Why did it feel like this, she wondered. Every single time. If only he felt it too. How could he not feel it?

 _Unforgettable, though near or far…_

He wasn't going to hold her very closely, but like magnets they were drawn to each other.

 _Like a song of love that clings to me…_

Oh, God, the smell of her, the heat of her body through the silk of her dress, which could not complete with the porcelain silk of her skin.

 _How the thought of you does things to me…_

Her neck, her ear…they were right there. "You are so beautiful tonight." The words were whispered against her before he even realized they had left his lips.

 _Never before has someone been more…_

Her breath caught in her throat. Goosebumps rose on the bare skin of her upper arms, her shoulders, her décolletage… Why did she have to react to him in such a way? Any second now he'd notice all the little things he was doing to her… But she looked around… Nate and Serena were laughing at some little private joke. The newspaper crew was gone. She and Chuck were in a shadowed corner. Surely one dance, one break from all the hurt she'd been feeling….it couldn't be so wrong, could it? She wouldn't ask for more than this.

She held him a little tighter, curving her chin over his shoulder…

Her eyes drifted closed and she let herself feel it all.

 _Unforgettable, in every way…_

He had to touch her. There was no way he could resist. His gloved hand slowly let go of hers and joined his other hand at her waist. Her other hand came up and wrapped around his shoulder.

She had to know he was taking off his glove.

She had to know what he was going to do…

His fingers made contact with her arm, fingertips sliding down every satiny inch of skin, to the top of her opera gloves.

 _And forevermore that's how you'll stay_

He wanted to peel them off, the gloves and every single stitch of clothing she was wearing. Until there was nothing separating them, nothing between them.

 _That's why, darling, it's incredible…_

Oh, God, he was whispering the words in her ear.

 _That someone so unforgettable…_

His lips were so close, almost close enough to touch…

 _Thinks that I am unforgettable too._

She couldn't see that his eyes were closed too.

She wanted the music to go on and on.

But it didn't.

All too soon, Nate was back at her side and Chuck was stepping away from her. The effect was chilling and painful.

They made an announcement on the PA system, but Blair didn't hear. She was too busy trying to figure out where Chuck had gone. Because he had somehow disappeared.

Again.

It was always going to be like this. It felt like they were getting so close, but in reality, they were still so far away.

She couldn't do this anymore. She needed to make a clean break and get on with her life. She'd only agreed to come with Nate tonight because she'd been so heartbroken when her mother brought it up. Her mother and Anne Archibald had orchestrated the whole thing. She'd only had to agree, and she felt so hurt and angry and empty the day after Chuck hadn't shown up at the Empire State Building that she pretty much would have agreed to anything.

But she could move on. Nate seemed amenable. Once upon a time, this would have been her ultimate happy ending.

Be careful what you wish for, a voice whispered inside her head.

* * *

"Chuck, what are you doing?" Serena had no idea what was taking him so long and had decided to come looking for him herself.

He was standing by the ballot box for Debutante of the Season.

They were interrupted by the Cotillion Committee arriving to take the box and count the ballots.

"You better not have sabotaged Blair's chances!" Serena muttered under her breath.

"Oh, I have a very good feeling about her chances," Chuck reassured.

A few moments later, the word was out: The Debutante of the Season was Miss Blair Cornelia Waldorf!

Cheers went through the crowd and Blair squealed excitedly before going up to the dais to receive her tiara and sash.

Another round of cheers went up when Nate joined her.

But no one was clapping harder or smiling wider than Chuck Bass.

And then Serena understood.

Nate had told her about the carriage.

She had seen that girl wink at Chuck after the corsage incident.

She had also seen Chuck standing by the ballot box.

Chuck had arranged for Blair to have the perfect night, even though he wasn't sharing it with her.

Why on earth would he do that?

She understood later in the evening, when the event was drawing to a close and they couldn't find Nate and Blair to say goodnight.

They walked around for a bit, finally seeing their friends getting into an elevator.

They were kissing passionately.

Serena looked at Chuck. His face was pale and his expression was devastated. She'd never seen that look in his eyes before. She didn't realize it was completely mirrored on her own face.

She was too shocked. Because now she knew: Chuck Bass was in love with Blair Waldorf.

They stood there for a second…or an hour…or a year—who could tell?

Then she put her arm on Chuck's. "C'mon, let's go get drunk."

He followed her without saying a word.

To Be Continued in Chapter 19

* * *

Author's Note:

For my dear friend Almaloney33 on her birthday. She should be celebrated every day. True story.


	19. Chapter 19

_Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck and Blair shared an emotional dance at Cotillion, but things went awry and the night ended with Blair and Nate kissing in the elevator, and Chuck and Serena headed for the bar. Cheers!_

Chapter 19

Serena downed one martini and then another.

Chuck was silently sipping scotch number who-knew-what. Serena had lost count; it was hard to keep up with Chuck Bass in the drinking department.

Finally, she broke the silence, "I don't understand. Why it hurts so much, I mean."

Chuck sneered behind his raised scotch glass. "Please, you had to know they would get back together sooner or later. It's not like we haven't seen them together before."

"We have," she admitted, "but not kissing in an elevator going upstairs at a hotel."

The reminder was brutal and Chuck winced. He was trying to figure out how to respond when she began speaking again.

"He asked me, you know, to Cotillion. Weeks ago. And I said no, because of Dan."

The sneer was back. "Because of Dan, because you were scared or because there's no point in fighting something that's been in the works since we started primary school? Isn't that why you wanted me away from Blair?"

Serena sighed. "I didn't want Blair to get hurt."

"I would never intentionally hurt her. You know nothing about us," he ground out.

"So tell me," she challenged, "this secret admirer thing—how did that start?"

He was silent for a moment. "She needed someone," he finally said, "someone to keep an eye on her, to watch over her."

That really didn't give much information. "And then what happened?"

"Then I couldn't take my eyes off her." He took another sip of scotch and then gazed down into the glass tumbler in his hand, as if looking into a crystal ball.

He knew it was ridiculous to feel this way, hypocritical even. He'd been her first lover, and he was, well, Chuck Bass. Their numbers hardly matched. Besides, he'd let her go—the first time and then again when he'd missed their meeting at the Empire State. He couldn't really be shocked that she was trying to move on. Serena had been right: what was shocking was how much it stung his soul and tore at a heart he already knew was damaged beyond repair.

Would Nate have planned something special for her upstairs?

Would the room be decorated with candles and flowers?

Was her favorite champagne chilling in an ice bucket?

Would Nate know to go slow until she indicated she was more than ready?

Would he whisper endearments in her ear interspersed with little kisses down her neck and across her shoulder?

Would he pause to listen to each little breath, each precious sound she made?

Would he be able to breathe when she looked up at him with her heart seeming to shine out of those beautiful dark eyes?

Would—no, he had to stop this!

He looked down at the glass in his hand. It was empty.

Again.

Like he felt.

It was silly, he knew, to be upset about her taking another lover. But even now, he couldn't really articulate how much it meant to him that he'd been her first and only, that she'd shared a sweet and singular part of herself with only him. And, for the first time, sex wasn't just a tangle of limbs for him; it was something that touched his heart and satisfied something in his soul. It was making love.

He could call these emotions she stirred in him "silly" or "ridiculous," but they persisted even in the face of calling them names or trying to stomp them out.

How was he supposed to recover and feel better if the pain kept getting worse? Maybe it was at its worst, though? Maybe this was the final reminder that it was over?

A snatch of a song from the bar's loudspeakers came to his ears. _'Cause she's moved on while I'm still grievin'. No, when a heart breaks, no, it don't break even…even…._

He looked down at his still-empty glass and then at the pitying look on Serena's face. Would this night ever be over?

A couple more mostly silently drinks and Serena announced she was calling it a night.

When she stood to her feet on wobbly legs, Chuck rose and took her arm. "C'mon, let's get you upstairs. Please note that this is not the usual context in which I use that sentence."

Serena tried to grin back at him, but grimaced instead. How could he still be steady after drinking so much?

When they exited the elevator and made their way down the hall, Serena felt compelled to thank him and extend an olive branch. "Thank you for saving me tonight, Chuck, in more ways than one." She squeezed his arm. "And I am really am sorry about Blair."

He shrugged, his expression closed again.

She wasn't surprised. Tonight she'd seen more of Chuck Bass than she'd possibly ever seen, but now the book was firmly shut once more.

"My pleasure…sis."

Serena rolled her eyes. She expected him to leave skid marks once he got her inside the door, but Eric was still up and asking questions about the party and challenging Chuck to a game of chess, which, to her surprise, Chuck accepted.

She yawned and went upstairs, changing into some cozy pajamas and getting ready for bed.

She was almost asleep when her phone vibrated. Out of curiosity (and habit), she picked it up and looked at the screen.

Another Gossip Girl blast. Chuck was out carousing with twins? Seriously?! He was just downstairs.

She got up, sneaked down the hall and peeked around the corner. Yep, he was still there, and it looked like he was winning the game of chess, despite all the alcohol from before. He was even offering to take Eric for his tuxedo fittings for the wedding.

How had Gossip Girl gotten it so wrong? Then she spied Chuck's phone sitting on the coffee table.

Unless…Chuck had wanted it gotten wrong?! Was he so determined to save face that he'd invented a cover story for playing chess with his soon-to-be little brother? Did Chuck miss Blair that much?

Serena was beginning to think he did. And she was beginning to think she'd done something terrible to all of them in encouraging B to break things off with him. She lay there thinking about it for what seemed like a long time.

When she finally got up to peek downstairs again, her mother was sending Eric upstairs to bed and gently placing a blanket over a sleeping Chuck, then smoothing a hand over his hair and placing a light kiss on his brow.

And then it hit Serena. This was actually happening. In a few short weeks, Chuck Bass was going to be her brother. He had helped her out tonight—and she knew that had been asking a lot.

She had not behaved as a friend should when Blair had told her about their relationship. In her defense, Serena had been taken by such surprise—that her best friend and Nate's best friend were having a secret relationship and that Blair seemed so incredibly happy with Chuck. At the time, she'd thought she was protecting Blair by telling her to dump him.

But what if she wasn't?

What if she was being defensive about being excluded from something so very important to Blair? She recalled Blair trying to protest that Serena didn't understand and how Serena had cut her off, not wanting to hear any more about their relationship.

She had a good idea now of how Chuck felt about Blair. But how did Blair feel about Chuck? She'd gone away with him on spring break, for goodness' sake! Then she'd been with him on the roof at Nate's party…and again when they'd switched dance partners tonight.

Did Blair still have feelings for him?

No, she couldn't. That was crazy! No one had pushed her into that elevator (and Nate's arms) tonight. Nate was what she'd always wanted. Her dreams were all coming true, right? She had whole scrapbooks devoted to this.

If Serena could just see one of these scrapbooks again…or talk to Blair…then she would know and not to have to feel guilty for possibly being a bad friend to her best friend and future brother.

Serena closed her eyes again. Yes, she'd go over to Blair's tomorrow—er, later today—and find out for herself.

* * *

It was after ten when Serena pried her eyes open to face the day.

Memories came flying:

Dan picking the fight and leaving abruptly with her still standing there in the gold dress she loved and secretly wanted to show off.

Her desperation to find an escort and relief when Chuck arrived.

Lining up at the stairs and being announced. The way Blair had whipped around and glared at her. Yes, the more she thought about it, that was definitely a glare.

Dancing with Nate and how they'd laughed together.

Blair being crowned Debutante of the Season while Chuck looked on, obviously pleased.

Blair and Nate kissing in that elevator…

Serena squeezed her eyes shut and willed that image to go away. It wouldn't. Nor would the look of pain and horror on Chuck's face…and her own.

"You know nothing about us," he'd said, and that was true. She didn't; she hadn't wanted to. But now she needed to know, to know if their pain had been worth it, to know if she'd done the right thing in encouraging Blair to pursue Nate and let Chuck go.

She got up and got dressed before going downstairs. Chuck was no longer there and the blanket she'd seen her mother spreading over him was neatly folded at the end of the sofa. In his place sat her grandmother, sipping a mimosa and looking quite pleased with herself.

"Ah, Serena, there you are, darling. Did you have a good time last night? Bart Bass's son is an odious boy, but I must admit he makes an excellent substitute escort. Can you believe your mother is really going to marry his father?" She gulped down some more of her mimosa.

Serena took advantage of the pause to make her escape. "I have to go, Grandmother. There's something I need to check on. We'll catch up later."

In the cab on the way over to Blair's, in the elevator on the way up to her floor, Serena told herself she just needed to see those scrapbooks and she would know. Blair, on the other hand, would be blissfully unaware.

She'd gotten to the foot of the stairs when the voice rang out behind her and caused her to jump.

"Miss Serena! You here to see Miss Blair?"

"Hi, Dorota," she smiled at the maid, "I, uh, I need to get something I loaned to Blair last week." That sounded convincing, right?

"You go on up. Miss Blair upstairs."

"She is?!" Wasn't Blair still with Nate?

Dorota nodded. "She just get back. Say she no want breakfast, just a shower, then go upstairs."

"I see." Serena did not see at all, but maybe she could make it upstairs while Blair was still in the shower. She took the stairs at a run.

When she slipped into Blair's room, she heard the shower door open.

The coast was clear!

Without delay she bent over and reached under the crisply starched bed skirt, feeling around until she pulled out a wicker basket.

Success!

The smile on Serena's face quickly faded when she realized the multiple volumes she was looking for were not in the basket. Instead, there was only a single, leather-bound album with a seashell attached to the lower right corner.

Serena opened the cover—and gasped. Because she'd been expecting drawings and notes all revolving around Nate Archibald. The album contained only photos featuring Blair…

And Chuck Bass.

Like she'd never seen them before.

Smiling.

Happy.

There were photos of them walking horses down a beach. They were hand in hand and looked completely oblivious to the photographer.

She turned another page.

They were standing under a sign that read Cliffside Café, arms wrapped around each other. Their hair was still damp (clearly from a recent dip in the ocean) and Blair didn't have a bit of makeup on her face. But she was still radiant, confident, beautiful. It was so alien to the insecure Blair she knew that it almost took her breath away.

There were more photos: on the beach, singing on a stage, at Chuck's club….

She didn't know that either of them could look so close, so happy, so…in love.

She shut the album and set it aside. Then she inspected the other contents of the basket: a packet of notes tied with a purple ribbon, a silver compact, a dried peony, some sheet music with the words "For Blair" penned in a familiar script, and a handkerchief embossed with CB in the corner. They all spoke to a romantic, old-fashioned courtship.

Chuck had been right: Serena knew nothing about him and Blair.

In a daze, she pushed the basket back to its original location and sat down on the edge of the bed. Out of the corner of her eye, Serena spied Blair's mobile phone on the nightstand.

She picked it up. When she switched on the screen display, a message popped up that a passcode was required.

Serena sighed and punched in Blair's birthday.

Clearly the queen needed tighter security.

Serena went into the pictures file. The first photo was a selfie of Chuck and Blair. They were standing cheek to cheek. One of Chuck's arms was pulling Blair close, while the other was snapping the picture. Blair's smile was wide as she teasingly pointed to Chuck's grin with her index fingers, though it was so wide Serena didn't see how anyone could miss it.

The next pic was taken in low light. Blair was wearing an off-the-shoulder evening gown and Chuck was standing behind her, lips trailing down her neck. Blair's eyes were closed in bliss.

Serena quickly clicked to the next picture, though nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. It was taken in lower light still and thankfully only showed their head and shoulders. Because it looked like they were naked as the day they were born.

"Oh…ew…oh!" Serena tried to avert her eyes, but something about the photo kept drawing her back. They looked dazed and dreamy, leaning into each other and a mahogany bedpost that looked remarkably similar to the Chuck's new bed.

Sated. There was no other word for their expressions.

The next picture was no better, as it was merely a close-up of the two, this time engaged in a kiss. Blair's hand was on his neck, her fingers tenderly stroking his jaw and trying to draw him ever closer….

A noise from the en suite bath alerted Serena that the water was no longer running and her time was up. It was just as well; she really didn't think she could handle more pictures anyway.

She barely had time to exit the camera function and switch off the phone before Blair came into the room, wrapped in a pewter velvet robe.

"S, what are you doing here?!" Blair looked at the phone in her friend's hand and the startled look on her face.

"I—I was waiting for you and I thought I heard your phone ring, but I think I was mistaken. Besides, your phone is locked."

"As it should be," Blair agreed, "a girl can't be too careful with these things."

Serena nodded absently. She didn't want to think about the "things" Blair was protecting.

"So…what brings you over to see me?"

"I, uh, wanted to get that scarf I loaned you last week."

"A scarf? Oh, S, you know you and I have totally different taste in accessories. I didn't borrow anything from you."

"Um, maybe it was Kati or Iz then," Serena pretended to consider those possibilities. "I didn't see you before we left last night. Did you have a good evening?"

It was not a smooth segue.

A knowing look came into Blair's eye. "Are you asking if I spent the night with Nate? Do you want details?"

"What?! No, of course not! I mean, unless you want to talk…?"

Please, please don't let her want to talk!

This was a horrible idea. Why had she come here? She knew she had not been a good friend to Blair or Chuck. Seeing the actual proof of it had not helped anything. And now she had opened this can of worms! What would she do if Blair started going on about Nate's beautiful body or the awed look in his sky blue eyes before, during and after? Why did she have to be thinking about this? How dare Dan Humphrey leave her like this when she most needed a rebound distraction?!

Blair was still silent. Couldn't she just get this over with so Serena could pretend to listen and then get out of here at the soonest opportunity?

"Well?" Serena finally demanded.

"Well…there's nothing to tell. I didn't spend the night with Nate last night." Blair sounded awfully calm.

Of course she was lying, Serena thought, so maybe that helped. "What do you mean? Of course you did! Chuck and I saw you getting into an elevator!"

"And that's all you saw. Yes, we spent the night together, but not like you mean."

"So you didn't-?"

"Make love, have sex, get naked, be intimate? In a word, no. Please, Serena, he's not even a very good kisser."

Serena's mouth dropped open and she responded without a thought. "Blair," her tone was horrified, "you know that's not true! When you're kissing Nate, it's all you can think about," she stopped short, doubly appalled by what she'd just said.

"Maybe it's all _you_ can think about. I couldn't stop thinking about-." She needed to stop before she gave away too much.

"About Chuck?" Serena asked gently.

Too late.

Tears pricked her eyes and she nodded, looking away.

"Then, Blair, why on earth did you break up with him?"

"I didn't! Why would I do something like that?! I love him." She said it like it was the most natural thing, the most obvious fact. "I've been trying to win him back…," she confessed about their missed rendezvous at the Empire State.

When she got to the part about tossing her lipstick, Serena gasped. "It's gold with a crown topper, right?"

Blair nodded.

"Blair, Chuck has your lipstick. He's been carrying it around in his suit pocket. I don't know what happened—if you two just missed each other or if he was late—but he did go to meet you. You should give him another chance. He cares deeply for you, B."

"I wish that were true," she sighed. "I want to believe, I really do, but every time I get my hopes up again, it doesn't pan out and I die just a little more inside. Besides, I thought you didn't want us to be together?"

Serena had the grace to blush. "I was surprised…and a little angry you hadn't told me sooner…and I didn't understand what you two have. I was wrong." It actually felt good to say it out loud. "Will you forgive me?"

The two friends embraced, before Serena had to ask, "So what exactly were you doing all night together, B?"

"Watching movies and eating junk food. We watched Nate's favorite movie and talked."

"Oh, not _The Sound of Music_ again! Nate claims it's because of the Nazis and guns, but we all know it's really for—"

"Julie Andrews!" they finished together with a laugh.

"At least Nate is consistent," Blair pointed out. "As is Chuck. Gossip Girl posted that he was out partying with twins last night." She tried but failed to look unaffected by this news.

"He wasn't!" Serena protested. "He was upstairs at our place playing chess with my brother. And winning! Though how he could do that after all the drinking we did is beyond me." She rolled her eyes.

"You went drinking last night…with Chuck?" Blair looked skeptical.

"It was unexpected," Serena admitted. "He turned out to be…."

"Amazing?" Blair interjected.

Serena smiled. Blair had it _bad._ "Different than I thought he'd be. That's why you should give him another chance. I want you to be happy."

"I want to be happy too. And I was. So happy. That's why I'm done trying to pretend with Nate. If Chuck still cared, he'd tell me, show me."

Oh, if she only knew that he had, in so many ways. "But he thinks you want to be back with Nate."

Blair shook her head. She was done listening.

"B, come get dressed and let's go out for coffee. It's been a long night for everyone."

Her friend shook her head. "I think I'm going to have some breakfast and then go for a walk. If you want some company, I'm sure Nate could use the caffeine right now."

Did she, had she just winked at her?

Serena was halfway to her apartment when she decided to change course.

If only Chuck and Blair could see how much they loved each other….

She really needed a coffee.

She really needed to see Nate.

She didn't stop to think; she was ready to take a chance. God knows someone needed to!

His hair was adorably rumpled and there was sleepy dust still in his eyes when he opened the townhouse door.

"Serena!"

"Nate, I have to tell you a secret…it's about Blair…and Chuck."

To Be Continued in Chapter 20

* * *

Author's Note:

Is Serena really going to tell the secret? How will Nate react? Are Chuck and Blair ever going to get back together or what?! Stay tuned!

Hopefully, this chapter was a little easier on my readers' hearts than the last few have been. If this story has made your heart hurt, this chapter is dedicated to you!

Have you heard the One Direction song "They Don't Know About Us?" Sarah Stocker made a great Chair video of it on YouTube. It's one of my favorites and I highly recommend watching.

Special thanks to iALLIEgator for her song recommendation of "Breakeven (Falling to Pieces)" by The Script. Love the band, love the song, had to use it!

Special thanks to Shrk22 and Almaloney33, and also to Chrys1130 for helping me tweak the part where S tells B about her night drinking with Chuck.

I can't wait to hear from you, dear readers!

Xoxo


	20. Chapter 20

_Last time in the Secretverse: Chuck and Serena did a little bonding/drinking and Serena decided that maybe she'd made a mistake in trying to come between him and her best friend. Blair and Serena debated Nate's kissing ability. S tried (but failed) to convince B to give Chuck another chance, so she decided to enlist Nate's help. Will it work?_

Chapter 20

"Nate, I have to tell you a secret…it's about Blair…and Chuck."

Despite his drowsy demeanor, Nate stepped aside and let Serena cross the threshold.

"Nathaniel, who's at the door?" Anne Archibald, looking every inch the society wife, inquired. "Oh, Serena, it's you." Her tone conveyed both frost and disappointment.

Serena shrank a little inside. Anne had always had the uncanny ability to make her feel like a very ornery little girl who had wandered up to the adult table by mistake. She'd always felt that she should apologize for not being the perfect companion, for not being Blair.

Anne adored Blair. Everyone, with the exception of a couple of less-than-perfect minions, adored Blair. Even Chuck, who didn't love anyone, loved Blair.

"Nate, can we talk somewhere?" It was a request as well as a plea for help.

"Sure," he placed his hand on Serena's back and led her to the library, leaving a disapproving Anne in their wake.

Once inside the library, Serena slumped onto the Captain's leather sofa. "Your mom hates me."

Nate plopped down beside her. "No, she doesn't, she doesn't even really know you." He gave her a little smile, and, damn him, she couldn't help but smile back. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Suddenly, Serena felt tongue-tied. She felt she'd thought this out before coming here, but now, looking into that open face and those sincere eyes, she couldn't help but wonder….

Was she going to break Nate's heart by telling him his ex-girlfriend and his best friend were in love?

Or would he be angry?

Feel betrayed?

She'd been selfishly thinking he'd help her with the problem of Blair and Chuck's breakup, but what if she was making things a hundred times worse? She was no good at this scheming stuff - Blair and Chuck were the naturals.

She hesitated.

Nate smiled again. "Okay, I'll tell you a secret then: I've never sent a tip into Gossip Girl. So you know your secret is safe with me."

Serena drew back in surprise. "Really? Never? Not even once?"

"Not a single time," he confirmed.

He did not deserve this. She could not do it to him. "Um, it's not really my secret to tell. I made a mistake." She rose to her feet and moved toward the library doors.

"You said it's about Blair and Chuck," he reminded her.

"It was, but it's silly, nothing to worry about. I'm wasting your time. Would you like to go get coffee with me?" Maybe she could distract him….

She was babbling.

"Serena," he said slowly…

Please let him say he wants coffee. Please, please, please…

"I know."

"You…know?" she echoed. She couldn't even come up with any credible denials or comebacks.

"I know that Chuck is Blair's secret admirer. I know they went away on spring break together. I know they have feelings for each other. I know everything."

Yep, that was pretty much everything. Well, almost…

"Oh, but it's so much worse than that, Nate. I think they're in love!"

"I kind of figured. I mean, this is Chuck Bass – when has he ever shown that kind of attention to a girl?"

"How do you know about Chuck and Blair?" Let's face it, Nate had a warm heart and plenty of athletic skill, but no one was going to confuse him with Sherlock Holmes.

"Blair told me," he said it as if it were completely obvious.

"Blair told you? When?"

"Last night. Upstairs in the hotel room."

Well, Blair had mentioned that they'd talked.

"Aren't you upset?" Serena really, really wanted to know.

"I was…at first. I may have yelled a little," he confessed. "But then she told me the whole story, and it was unlike either of them…but exactly like both of them."

"But I thought – I thought you wanted to get back together with her! I saw you kissing in the elevator."

"She was my backup date, remember? I figured if she wanted to try again and our mothers wanted us to try again…maybe we should try again. But it just felt all wrong. It's always felt wrong with Blair. Maybe we should just accept that we want other people." He looked meaningfully at Serena.

A slight flush bloomed on Serena's cheeks. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She couldn't quite accept it. "But Chuck is your best friend."

"He is," Nate agreed, "but I think Blair brings something out in him, some side of him that no one else has ever seen, some little secret only they know."

Serena nodded. "But they aren't together anymore. Blair said he broke up with her, and they're both miserable. I figured that out when Chuck and I went drinking last night."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute…you went drinking last night with Chuck?!" He was almost laughing.

"It's a long story," she admitted, "but it's better with coffee."

She really, really needed that coffee. Would Nate take the hint?

"I'll get my jacket," he said.

* * *

Chuck had gone back to his suite, showered, dressed and ate a light breakfast (no omelette!). As always, his first thoughts were of Blair, but he pushed those away this morning. He had to do something, anything to keep his mind off what he'd lost.

Monkey! Monkey was always happy to see him. He would go down to the animal shelter and take his furry friend for a walk.

Chuck and a very enthusiastic Monkey were strolling through Central Park when the blast was sent.

 _Good morning, Upper East Siders. Guess the old saying "Gentlemen prefer blondes" is true. Golden Boy may have had Queen B on his arm at Cotillion last night, but this morning he appears to need a caffeine and Sunshine Barbie fix._

Chuck froze as a wave of fury went through him. What the hell?! He remembered the almost physical pain that had gone through him when he'd had to leave Blair after their first night together. Apparently Nate had no such problem; his friend had left so fast there were probably skid marks. Didn't that idiot realize what an opportunity he'd been given in Blair taking him back? Was he insane?

He was still scowling when there, on the trail in front of him, just as if his mind had conjured them, were his soon-to-be sister and the idiot in question. They were deep in conversation and still carrying steaming cups of coffee.

"Chuck!" Serena spotted him first, and Monkey ran up to them, leaping up on Serena's leg. "Hello, boy!" She began scratching behind his ears.

"What is that thing?!" Nate was taken by surprise.

" _That_ is Monkey," Chuck informed them in an unamused tone.

"You got a dog! How did you get a dog?!" Although Monkey had stopped leaping up, Serena was still rubbing his head.

"I'm sponsoring him at the animal shelter, if you must know."

"It's such a surprise running into you," Serena seemed unaware of the tension in Chuck.

"Not nearly as surprised as I am to see you. Or as Blair will be when she sees the blast Gossip Girl just sent out. What the hell were you thinking?!" he snarled at Nate.

"Chuck, it's not what you think," Serena interrupted. "Besides, I would think you'd be happy that…."

"What? That the two of you have hurt and humiliated her?! Don't you care about her at all?!"

"Someone here clearly cares about her…admires her." Nate almost made it sound like an accusation.

"You know?" Chuck looked at Nate, then accusingly at Serena.

Nate nodded. "She didn't tell me," he felt compelled to defend Serena. "Blair did. She told me about the secret admirer stuff, about your vacation, everything."

"Then you should know how damn lucky you are. Look, I never wanted to keep it a secret. If you feel like you need to take a swing at me, go ahead." He spread his hands in an open gesture and Monkey began barking at Nate. "I'd do it all over again anyway," he confessed. "I love her."

Serena was aghast. It was one thing to suspect how Chuck felt. It was quite another to hear him say it out loud – and to Nate!

"Then what are you still doing here, man?" Nate demanded. "If you want her, go get her."

Serena walked over to him and put Monkey's leash back into his hand. "Please, Chuck, go talk to her. I think you'll be surprised by what she has to say."

Chuck looked down at the dog and back at the couple in front of him.

"Are we still friends, Nathaniel?"

"You're my best friend, Chuck. Always have been. And Blair's one of my best friends too. I just want you guys to figure this thing out. No more secrets, okay?"

He nodded and took off at a brisk walk, leaving Nate and Serena staring at each other with raised eyebrows.

* * *

An hour later, Chuck Bass leaned against his limo, parked at the curb in front of Blair's building. He had returned Monkey to the shelter and was freshly showered, shaved and clutching a bouquet of pink peonies.

He was beyond nervous, beyond scared, beyond impatient.

He'd already gone upstairs, only to discover Blair was still out for a walk. He'd tried to leave. He'd made it as far as the limo, but every fiber of his being told him to stay, to find out where he stood with Blair, for better or for worse.

People continued to pass. Well, they were in Manhattan, but it seemed like all the foot traffic was taunting him. There were over a million and a half people on their little island, but none of them seemed to be the one he was seeking.

He heard the click of her heels first. Then he saw the sheen of her silk stockings, the flare of her skirt, the pop of spring color that was her jacket.

Time slowed. The dark waves of her hair, not really contained by her headband, bounced in slow motion.

Then she saw him. Her face paled. Her gait grew slower until she stopped in front of him. Her eyes flickered down to the bouquet and then back to his face.

"What are you doing here, Chuck?"

And he froze. The cocktail of emotions that had brought him here now seemed to desert him and leave him speechless.

He cleared his throat. "Have you seen the Gossip Girl blast?"

She nodded, not looking at him.

"Are you okay?" A hand came out, touching her forearm and then sliding down to squeeze her hand.

She retracted as if his touch burned her. "Is that what this is?" she looked meaningfully at the flowers in his hand. "You think I'm so fragile that I need you to come play my admirer again?"

"I was never playing," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to give me another chance. I know you don't feel the same way about me as you do Nate, and I'm not asking you to. Maybe you don't love me, but we have a good foundation, don't we? We were happy together, weren't we?" She was close now, so close he could reach out and tilt her face up to his. "Maybe you could learn to love me?"

His words were begging her. His hand on her cheek was begging her. His eyes locked on hers were begging her.

The wait was excruciating. Please don't let her say no.

Finally, her lips parted. "What makes you think I don't?" Her voice broke on the last word.

"Blair, I heard you tell your mother that you loved Nate and always would. I've tried to step aside and let you have your dream. I thought you should be with someone you love, but I made a mistake. You should be with someone who loves you more than anything." He swallowed. "The way I love you, Blair."

Twin tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Then she was in his arms, her lips on his, and the feeling of euphoria, of relief, of rightness…it was beyond kilig.

She pulled back first, her hands resting on either side of his face, willing him to look at her. "I love you, you enormously stubborn pain in the ass. If you had stayed a minute longer, you would've heard me tell my mother that as much as I will always care about Nate, I'm not in love with him." She paused for breath. "Because I'm in love with you."

Was he dreaming? Had she really just said that?

"I tried to go back to Nate. I really did. Last night, at the party, I even went upstairs with him."

"You don't need to tell me any more. I saw you in the elevator." Really, he didn't want to know.

"I was just so hurt and angry when you disappeared on me," she explained. "I thought I could put you…and our dance…behind me if I got back together with Nate. We ended up watching movies and talking all night."

"Don't tell me, _The Sound of Music_? Only Nate could be in a hotel suite with you and still want to watch Julie Andrews cavorting over the hills of Austria," he rolled his eyes.

"And what would you do with me?" she purred.

"Come back to my suite with me and find out." He opened the limo door. It was a very tempting offer.

She stepped in and slid across the leather seat. It felt like forever until he slid in beside her, the bouquet of peonies falling to the floor.

"Where were we?" she whispered against his ear, her body tucked into his.

He stopped and pulled away for a moment. "Blair, I love you and I will never leave you. It almost killed me when I tried before. So, I have to ask: Are you sure?"

"Chuck, I love you," the truth of her words was blazing in her eyes when she looked up at him.

"Say it again," he murmured against the shell of her ear.

She giggled.

"I'm serious. Can you say it again?"

"I love you," she stripped off his bow tie.

"Again!"

She unbuttoned and shrugged off his jacket.

"I love you."

Her fingers found the tab on the zipper of his trousers.

And then no words were necessary.

But he whispered those precious 3 words, 8 letters anyway.

Against her lips.

Against her neck.

Against every inch of her skin.

And she whispered them right back.

* * *

"Blair?" he whispered against her ear.

"Hmm?" The reply was equal parts drowsy and blissful. She opened her eyes and peeked up at the curtains of the four-poster bed in Chuck's suite. "I love this bed."

He grinned and pulled her closer. "This is the first time I've actually slept in it."

She rolled over and looked at him with curiosity.

"It felt wrong without you," he explained.

"Well, now I never want to leave it." She stretched before curling back into him.

"Oh, trust me, I intend to keep you here all night long, but first…dinner."

She groaned. "I _am_ starving, but couldn't we just order room service and have a picnic right here in bed?"

"As delicious,"—the way he said the word sent shivers all through her—"as that sounds, we need to be seen. I want our secret to be out. I love you, and I don't care who knows it."

Her smile was naughty. "Gossip Girl is going to swallow her own tongue."

A frown crossed his face. "Everyone will talk and no one will understand. They'll all bet against us and say you deserve better."

"Hey," her hand came up to touch his face, "no one is better for me than you. I missed you so much."

She sat up slowly and wrapped the sheet around her. Then she moved to the mirror and studied her face.

He stole up behind her and encircled her waist. "You look good in Egyptian cotton. High thread count suits you."

"I wish I still had my lipstick. I did something stupid, Chuck, and threw it away," she confessed.

He let go of her then and went over to the sofa to fumble with his suit jacket. "You mean this?" He held up the golden lipstick case.

Her eyes widened. "You came?" Her tone was filled with awe.

"You called. How could I not?"

"Serena said you did, but I couldn't let myself believe it," she shook her head as she took the case from his hand.

"Why not?"

"Because I so wanted it to be true. Tell me, is this real?"

"The only thing that's ever been real is you and me."

"And that's our secret." She whispered 3 words, 8 letters against his lips, as he did the same.

They were the very best secret.

To Be Continued in Chapter 21

* * *

Author's Note:

For those of you thinking, "Hey, I thought Serena went to Nate's hotel room at the end of Chapter 19!" Well, you're not wrong, but I fixed it so she does indeed go to his family home. Even though that meant editing the last chapter. Thanks to Chrys1130 and SnowedUnderNJ for being willing to help me learn to do that.

Three cheers for Chrys, Shrk22, Almaloney33 and Chairship for being cheerleaders, sounding boards and good friends. Bonus points to Chairship for doing so while miserably sick.

Thank you, dear readers, for going on this journey with me. I love hearing from you, especially about pivotal chapters like this one.

Xoxo


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